Stepping In
by Mooncat99
Summary: With Gibbs down, the director MIA and terrorists on the perimeter, Tony has his hands more than full. (Tony-centric teamfic with lots of Fornell as well.)
1. Chapter 1

Title: Stepping In

Author: Mooncatff

Summary: With Gibbs down, the director MIA and terrorists on the perimeter, Tony has his hands more than full.

Rating: T

Warnings: Everything that a good crime story needs, but nothing graphic. This is totally Tony-centric, so if you're looking for Tony bashing, this is not the story for you.

Pairings: It's exploring the relationships among all the team members, but most likely, there will be very slight TIVA-tendencies.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of NCIS.

Author's note: First long NCIS story, hope I'll do them justice. Also, my mother tongue is German and not English, but I'll do my best to deliver you a smooth ride. Thus said, a very, very big 'Thank You!' to Scousemuz1k for doing such an amazing job as my beta!

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><p><strong>Stepping In<strong>

Chapter 1

As he stepped out of the elevator, his trademark grin firmly in place, Tony saw McGee and Ziva already waiting for him, both wearing smiles that had him on high alert immediately. But mostly, his curiosity was piqued. He loved a good prank or joke, no question. Of course he preferred to be the one delivering them rather than receiving them, but then again, he always had believed that whoever dealt them out also had to be able to take them and be a good sport about it. His probies had come a long way since they'd joined the team, a fact he took great pride in. Actually, sometimes they'd learned a bit too much from him. Hence the high alert.

"Good morning, Tony." Ziva's eyes held a glint. McGee too greeted him with such smugness that Tony's eyebrows rose.

"Probies," he greeted back, well aware that this word alone was going to ruffle their feathers. "What can I do for you?" For the first time he noticed the sheet of paper Ziva held in her hands. "What's that?"

Her smile widened, as she waved the paper. "This? Oh, nothing important. It is highly interesting though."

"Yes, very," McGee chimed in.

Tony raised his eyebrows a bit higher. "Well, McParrot, why don't you enlighten me then?"

It was Ziva though who continued, her pony tail almost bouncing with anticipation. "The girls at NCIS took a vote."

"Yes, for the ten most eligible bachelors," McGee nodded. "They just e-mailed the list."

Things at NCIS had been slow lately, obviously. Didn't mean that Tony didn't eagerly reach for the paper, sure it contained the list. "Oh, let me see. I'm on it for sure! I mean look at me: I'm single, attractive and one of the best agents we have. Who wouldn't want me?" His eyes lit up. "I'm number one, yes? I have to be."

"You're on the list, all right," Ziva confirmed, holding the list out of his reach though. "But certainly not on the top of it."

A frown appeared between Tony's eyes. "No?"

"Rather try place nine." McGee grinned, not able to hold that bit of information back any longer. But it was okay. After all, it was still going to get better.

"What? Let me see this," Tony exclaimed and reached for the list again. This time Ziva was letting him have it gladly, waiting for the moment he saw who was on top of the list. She knew the moment it sank in as his head jerked up to shoot them with a glare. "Are you kidding me?"

"We would never dare, Tony," Ziva grinned, waving at his computer. "But see for yourself if you want. The e-mail is in your inbox. Shelley, Vance's secretary, sent it."

McGee shook his head. "Won't change the list though. Just face it, Tony. You're not as much a ladies man as you always thought you were."

"Yes, exactly. In the end, women maybe like a ride or two with you, but they choose men like McGee for the long throw."

"Haul," Tony corrected Ziva automatically. "It's for the long haul." Staring at McGee, he cocked his head to the side. "How did you do it?" he demanded to know. "Woo every woman with chocolate and poems?"

"Tony, I swear, I had no idea. I was as surprised about the list and being voted the most eligible bachelor as you are now," McGee assured him, although very self-satisfied.

"Pff! Which woman with any shred of sanity left would choose you over me?" Tony pointed at Ziva. "Ziva! You'd choose me over him, wouldn't you?"

"Well - I admit, at first sight you might seem more attractive," Ziva began, only to be interrupted by a wounded "Hey!" from McGee and a victorious laugh from Tony. She held up her hand. "But then you open your mouth and one realizes how immature you act most of the time - like right now for example - and how unnerving you are with your never ending movie reverences and ..."

"Okay, I get it," Tony interrupted her, unsure he wanted to hear more. Not that her words were getting to him, he knew they were only trying to get a rise out of him. And with a grain of truth in them. His eyes dropped back onto the list, scanning it. After all, this was prime mocking material.

Unnoticed by him, McGee and Ziva exchanged a glance before quickly looking back at Tony, not wanting to miss the moment he saw who was elected as number seven. They didn't have to wait long. Tony's chin actually fell open, his eyes slightly bulging. "_What?_ Are they shitting me?" The probies broke out into giggles. "Gibbs? _Gibbs?_ They think he's the better catch than me? He's two places before me? Gibbs? Let's forget his age for the moment, but don't they know he's been divorced three times?"

"I don't know, Tony. Some women like the challenge," Ziva laughed.

"And he's got all that wounded mystery man thing going for him. And the sexy grey hair. That's pretty intriguing, I guess."

"Something you want to tell me, McGee?" Gibbs asked, breezing by with a brisk walk that had Tony turning to his desk in order to grab his bag even before the boss retrieved his gun and badge from his top drawer. "Before you answer, remember I'm armed."

"Uh no, no. Nothing at all, boss," McGee stuttered, his cheeks turning deep red. Tony snickered.

Bad idea. The glare honed in on him. "You got something to say, DiNozzo?"

"Who me? Certainly not, boss. Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." Gibbs let his SFA off the hook and grabbed his gear. "We've got a dead Ranger."

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><p>Tony looked down at the dead man with a frown, an uneasy feeling settling down in his stomach that had nothing to do with the shot out brains of Major David Peck littering the hard concrete floor. He had been executed. Never a good sign. An execution usually meant a complicated case as motives were never so easily found, hence few suspects. It was one of the reasons why he preferred a good old murder for love, hate or money. Another reason was that with executions, the stakes automatically rose. Considering that there was a dead Ranger at his feet, those stakes rose even higher. They were certainly looking for more than one executioner. No way just one man overwhelmed the Major to have him kneeling down and waiting to be shot into the back of his head.<p>

He looked around the vast, deserted old dock. A lonely place to die. Offering no cover. A shiver ran down his spine and he scanned the perimeters one more time. He couldn't see anything suspicious, but that did't mean that there was no one out there. At least they had the two trucks and Gibbs' car with them, providing them some cover. Not ideal, but better than nothing. Still, the faster they processed this scene and removed the body the better. True to his thoughts he hurried to take his pictures, listening to Ducky while he gave his preliminary findings, then proceeded to a story of the first known execution, where he tuned out. Normally he enjoyed the ME's verbal excursions, today though he couldn't appreciate it.

He wasn't the only one. "Hurry up, Ducky."

Looking up from behind his camera, Tony glanced at his boss. If his gut was twitching like this he could only assume what Gibbs' famous gut was screaming at the ex-Marine. He looked for Ziva and McGee. The ex-Mossad agent was searching the outer perimeter of the old docking station while McGee was collecting samples. Neither of them seemed to share his trepidation. Shaking his head, he moved to stand beside Gibbs. His boss didn't much care for unfounded worries, still, he felt the need to voice his uneasiness.

"I don't like this, boss," he said quietly, as not to worry Ducky, Jimmy or McGee.

Gibbs remained silent for a long moment, long enough that Tony was starting to doubt his decision to speak up. In the end though, Gibbs gave a small nod. "Me neither. Call Ziva back, I want to get out of here." He spoke up. "We've got enough. Pack up."

Ducky looked up sharply to glance at his old friend. Seeing both him and young Anthony uneasily scanning their surroundings, he didn't hesitate for a second and told Mr Palmer to go get the body bag. They wouldn't get more answers from the Major out here anyway.

Closing his phone, Tony saw with relief that Ziva was coming back to them at a light jog. McGee too seemed to finally have picked up that something was amiss. Tony could see the questions on his face, but he held them back and hurried to pack everything up, moving to help the MEs with the body just as Ziva joined them.

Unfortunately, it was too late. Tony just saw something flash from the old warehouse across the street before two rapid shots echoed and Tony's heart stopped. He watched in horror as Gibbs dropped to the ground, splotches of red already forming on his jacket.

TBC!

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><p><em>Author's Note: Am I not a very bad, bad girl? I hope you liked it, despite the cliffhanger. But fear not, the next chapter is with my beta as we speak, so you won't have to wait long. That is, if you are good to me and flood me with reviews …<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Not again, not again, not again.

That was the only thing Tony could think about as he watched the man he loved like a father hit the ground as more bullets flew past him. "Down!" he somehow managed to scream as he himself dropped to the concrete, his eyes glued to Gibbs' unmoving form. A flash of pain flared in his left upper arm, breaking his frozen state of mind. It was just a graze, but enough for him to remember that with Gibbs down, he was the one responsible now and he had a team to watch over. A team that was under fire. He tore his gaze away from Gibbs to look for his probies. Thank God, they had managed to duck behind the evidence truck, both seemingly unhurt. Two good, two to go. Twisting his head around he looked for the MEs. Ducky had had the good sense to seek cover behind his truck. Jimmy, though, was still cowering in the open, seemingly frozen with shock.

"Damn it, Palmer," Tony hissed, scrambling to his feet and tackling the young assistant down, rolling with him behind the ME's truck as well.

"Dear God, are you two all right? Mr Palmer, Anthony?" Ducky breathed. His face was pale, but Tony could see that his eyes were focused and he seemed like a pool of calm. It helped to quieten his own racing heart somewhat. He nodded, catching his breath, thinking furiously. The trucks only provided a lousy bit of cover. One lucky shot and they were all toast. Still better than nothing but they had to get out of here. What to do? How could he get all of them safely away, without more of them getting hurt? Or worse? His eyes strayed back to Gibbs, still lying out there, blood pooling under him. An ache started in his heart and his breath hitched.

_Not again._

He had no idea if Gibbs was still alive, but that was what he was going to go with. He had to. It was the only way that he could function right now and he had to function. His team needed him. Besides, this was _Gibbs_. A couple of bullets wouldn't bring down Leroy Jethro Gibbs! So his boss was still alive.

Out in the open, without any cover at all.

Tony blanched and acted without thinking. "Ziva, McGee, cover me!" he bellowed. Not waiting for them to respond, he jumped back to his feet, running forward in a low crouch. He thought he heard Ziva yelling his name, but ignored it. No man left behind. He may never have been a Marine, but Gibbs had made sure that he still lived by that code of integrity. Reaching Gibbs, he didn't take the time to check for a pulse, though every fiber in him screamed to reassure himself that his boss was still alive. Instead, he grabbed him under the armpits and pulled, praying he wasn't making anything worse. He was only dimly aware of the gunfire echoing through the old dock. They made it back to the little cover the ME's truck provided and most importantly, to where Ducky was already waiting for them. Hopefully he could save Gibbs.

Moving out of the way, Tony watched as Ducky felt for a pulse, breathing hard. Only part of it had to do with his exertions of a moment ago.

Gibbs had to be all right. Well, maybe not all right, obviously he wasn't okay, but he couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. The team needed him. Abby needed him.

_He_ needed him. So much. And he couldn't have another death on his watch. First Kate, then Paula, then Jenny. Not Gibbs too. Just - not.

"He has a pulse," Ducky said, most likely the most beautiful thing Tony had ever heard out of the Scotsman's mouth. He closed his eyes and let his heart come down to a normal beat. "Two gunshot wounds. One to the right shoulder, a through and through, one in his upper left chest. Mr Palmer, please staunch the flow of blood from the shoulder while I am taking care of the other wound. Anthony?" Opening his eyes, Tony met Ducky's very serious and worried glance. "He needs a hospital. At once."

Right. Of course. Damn, he should have thought about this sooner. He needed to get the others out of this death trap. But how? 'Calm down, DiNozzo. Get your head straight,' he told himself, imagining Gibbs' voice telling him. He frowned. Not quite right. He banged his head against the truck. There, now that was better. He took a deep breath and looked over to his teammates. "Did you call this in?" McGee nodded. Good, at least someone was thinking with his head on straight. "ETA?"

Tim avoided his eyes. "Ten, fifteen minutes."

Shit. That was too long. Gibbs didn't have that much time. He nodded. "How many, Ziva?" She was their little ninja assassin. He trusted her to know exactly how many enemies were out there and where. He had already deduced himself that there was more than one, other than that he had had other things to think about first. She didn't disappoint. "At least three, maybe four. Two by the warehouse, one or two by the bridge."

Tony peeked his head around the truck to gauge their possibilities. A bullet whizzed by. Fuck. So much for his slight hope that those assholes had packed up and run away. Why hadn't they? They had the perfect chance to high-tail it out of here, unbothered by the Feds who were too busy trying to take care of their wounded.

Unless they wanted to make sure that none of them left this godforsaken place alive.

Tony clenched his jaw, the grip on his gun tightening. Not on his watch. Turning back, he crawled over to Gibbs. "Sorry, I just need ..." His hands slid inside the jacket, trying to ignore the big bloodstains. His fingers found Gibbs' gun and he pulled it out. Next he went for the extra clips on his belt, the back-up weapon at his right ankle and the knife at his left. Swallowing, he crept back to the corner of the truck closest to McGee and Ziva, trying not to think about the amount of blood Gibbs had already lost. He knew he couldn't afford to dwell on it now, but that was easier said than done. So perhaps, he'd better put the thought to good use. Gibbs couldn't afford to lose much more blood, hence he had to get his ass in gear. "McGee, get over here. I'll cover you." He waited just long enough to see Tim nod, albeit a bit shakily. He stood up to provide cover while McGee ran across the few feet between the two trucks.

With a sigh of relief he pulled back. Briefly, he slapped the younger man on the back before he bent down to get Gibbs' service weapon and extra clips from the ground to shove them against McGee's chest. "You stay here, provide cover for me and Ziva and protect Ducky, Jimmy and Gibbs. Got it?"

Tim glanced at his fallen leader and the two men trying to save him and visibly gulped. But at the same time, his back straightened and he gave a brief nod. "Yeah, got it."

"Good." Tony looked him straight into the eyes, trying to see if he was up to this. "As soon as the enemy fire ceases, you get them to the hospital. Don't leave them alone, don't pay any attention to Ziva and me." It was the hardest thing to ask for, he knew that, but they needed someone who stayed back. Someone to protect the civilians and the fallen, insuring their survival.

Tim had been on the team long enough to know this as well. "Yes, boss," he replied quietly, gripping his own weapon and Gibbs' firmly.

With a nod and another slap to Tim's back he turned to Ziva. He threw Gibbs' backup piece and the knife over to her. "You take the warehouse. Try not to get killed." Their eyes locked, saying a lot neither of them was probably ever going to say out loud. And a silent farewell. Then they simultaneously turned away from each other, moving to the other corners of the trucks. It was a huge risk they were going to take, but Tony saw no other way. Taking a deep breath, he checked his gun once more before yelling "Now!" to McGee. He waited three seconds after McGee fired the first shot before he _ran_, heading for the bridge.

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><p>Miraculously, he managed to reach it without getting hit, despite bullets raining constantly. Either those guys were lousy shooters or McGee really kept them busy. The way those first two shots had hit the boss, he counted on the latter. Stopping by one of the pillars in order to catch his breath, he looked back. The foot of the bridge was situated a couple of hundred feet higher than the dock and he had an excellent view of the deserted area. His heart relaxed a bit when he saw that Ziva was not lying somewhere between the trucks and the warehouse. So far so good. He'd have to remember to thank McGee, once this was over. Maybe suggest a commendation for his file to Gibbs and Vance.<p>

_Gibbs. _

Both trucks were still there, meaning he was losing precious time here. Forcing his breath into a quiet, regular rhythm, he carefully proceeded around the pillar on the far side, moving further upwards towards the street where he guessed the third shooter was laying in wait, the bastard. Now that both he and Ziva had reached the shooters' hideouts and McGee had retreated back behind the trucks, it was once again eerily quiet, only the sound of the traffic and the water sloshing against the quay underlying this quietness. One single shot shattered it briefly, coming from the warehouse. 'Atta, girl,' Tony thought, allowing himself a small smile. He had no doubts whatsoever that Ziva had just taken out one of their enemies.

From ahead of him, a rapid series of shots was fired. Glancing back, he just caught a flash of an NCIS jacket disappearing behind the ME's truck. His eyes narrowed as he moved faster towards where the shots had come from. Screw caution. Gibbs' time was running out.

Another single shot sounded from over at the warehouse. Followed by a curse from ahead of him. "I can't reach Geri or Paul, Tom." The voice that spoke was calm, without accent and definitely male.

Same with the one that responded. "Then they're down. We should regroup." So there were two of them after all. Not that it mattered. But good to know.

"What about the orders to let no-one leave alive?"

Tony held his breath, creeping forward, reaching the pillar from behind which he could hear the voices. He wasn't far from them anymore. "I take out the trucks, that should take care of them. Should have done it sooner. Destroys the evidence too. John, watch out for the tall one. He must be here somewhere. Then we'll go take care of that bitch."

He didn't think so. Bracing himself, he stepped around the corner, his gun ready. "NCIS, freeze, lay down your weapons!" The barrel of his gun pointed directly into a man's face. John, he guessed. He only had time to register an average height, blond hair, green eyes and a flash of light shining off metal, as the other man of course didn't listen and brought up his gun. Tony fired. John fell away, giving a clear sight of the second man. For one moment, their eyes locked. "It's over, pal," Tony said, not letting his voice quiver on even one syllable, his finger on the trigger.

His opponent, Tom, smiled. Just long enough for Tony to memorize his looks. Black, short hair, piercing, cold blue eyes, dark features, skin with a deep tan. And a smirk that spoke of a self-confidence that left Tony uneasy. Cocky – even with a gun pointed at his head. Their hearts beat just once more. Then Tom ran. One second he was standing there at ease, the other he was gone, making Tony blink. With a curse, he set after the cocky bastard, heading for the street. He was fast. Then again, so was Tony. He had almost closed in on him when they reached the road. Jumping behind the fence, Tom turned around and fired at him. Tony dropped to the ground. There was not much else he could do, other than to try to take him out from down on the floor. Wouldn't be the first time. Of course, the last time the other guy was a junkie, not a clearly well trained fighter and shooter. He caught another flash of that damn grin before he grew aware that Tom's gun was pointed at _his_ head now. Shit! He rolled away, just as a bullet hit the dirt where seconds before, his head had been. His heart racing, he took another roll, waiting. But there were no flashes of pain, no darkness. Instead, he heard a few angry car horns blaring. He looked back to the fence. Sure enough, Tom was gone. Scrambling to his feet, he raced to the street.

No sign of Tom. Probably he'd crossed the street and was running towards God knew where. Breathing heavily, Tony contemplated going after him anyway. He hated letting that smug bastard get away, it didn't feel right. Abby would have to prove it yet, but he was pretty sure this was the asshole that had taken out Gibbs. But he had two new crime scenes to process, some new bodies to retrieve, to check that Gibbs was by now on the way to the hospital, and to find out the fate of his teammates. All that against the slight chance that he might still catch up to Tom.

With a shake of his head he turned around and headed back towards the dock at a jog. Still, he vowed that he was going to catch that damn cocky bastard, and if it was the last thing he did.

TBC

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><p><em>Author's Note: So, a little bit of action for you. I hope you liked it. Thank you all who reviewed the last chapter. Loved it! Please let me know what you thought of this one as well. The more I get, the faster I write the next chapter. <em>


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

An hour later, the old dock was crawling with LEOs and Feds. While the police secured the whole area, including the bridge and the warehouse, two more NCIS teams had arrived. Tony told them to process the various scenes, earning a dark look from Heyes, one of the team leaders. He didn't like being told what to do by a SFA, but he would just have to deal with it. Gibbs' team had been the first to respond, and just because Gibbs was momentarily incapacitated, didn't mean that this wasn't still their case. And Heyes knew that only too well. So he stayed in charge.

That was something he actually didn't care about, other than that it was what Gibbs would have expected of him. And he still had Tom to catch. This way, the hunt was his, and that was just how it he wanted it to be.

The downside was that he was bound here and not able to go to Bethesda. McGee had called a while back to confirm that they had reached the hospital and gotten Gibbs into the emergency room, still alive for now; although there had been a strain in Tim's voice that made a cold shiver run down his spine. But he hadn't pressed for details, and somehow restrained himself from calling McGee every five minutes for an update. Instead, he had tried to reach the director, just as he was doing again right now, leaning against their battered evidence truck. But for the fifth time all he reached was voice mail. Leaving another urgent message to call him back as soon as Vance got this, he closed it, irritated. "Someone should teach him Rule 3," he muttered. Thinking of Shelley, he tried the office again as well, but the secretary wasn't picking up either, causing Tony to borrow one of Gibbs' more inventive curses.

"Tony?"

Looking up, he saw Ziva standing only a few feet away from him, watching him closely. She had come out of the warehouse without a scratch and two more deaths on her belt. He'd need to talk to her about it, he reminded himself. Damn, the list of things he'd have to remember once this was over was growing alarmingly. He threw the lid back onto his temper. "Yeah?"

"The police found two cars behind the warehouse."

Yes! Tony straightened eagerly. "Our friends'." It had to be. Who else would park out here?

"I think so too. That is why I checked the GPS. One was disabled." That didn't surprise Tony and he'd bet they'd find Tom's fingerprints on it. "They had forgotten to turn off the other, though" Ziva added with a smile that would have frightened lesser men. Tony, though, could have whooped and whirled her through the air. At last a lead!

Matching her grin, he pushed himself away from the truck. "Then let's see where it leads us."

But Ziva stopped him with a hand on his right arm. "You are hurt."

Huh? Ziva gave his left arm a pointed look. Oh. The graze. He shrugged, trying to free himself from her hold. "I'm fine."

Ziva's grip tightened. "There is blood."

So what? Not as much as spotted the concrete. He doubted any of that blood was his. Most was Gibbs'. "It's just a graze." Again he tried to move past her.

He should have known better. He wasn't getting past the former Mossad agent if she didn't want him to. "Good. Then it will not take long to clean and dress the wound." When he opened his mouth to protest again, she narrowed her eyes. "You are in charge now. You really want to risk falling ill because you could not take five minutes to treat this wound properly? To leave us with McGee in charge?" The look he gave her was one of his darkest. She smiled. "He may be the most eligible bachelor, I do prefer though to have a real man leading us."

"Fine," he growled, seeing that he was not going to win this argument. He shrugged off first his windbreaker, then, with a smirk, his shirt, ignoring the slight tearing he felt when the fabric was lifted off the wound. Ziva wanted to play nurse? Fine with him. His smirk deepened. "You admit then that I am a real man, huh? Tell me, Ziva, who did you vote the most eligible bachelor?"

Rolling her eyes, Ziva pushed him to the back of the truck and sat him down. "I did not vote. Why should I participate in such a silly game?"

"Because it's fun? Come on, tell me. If you had taken a vote, who would you have chosen? McGooey or me?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes and yes, he wasn't above flexing his muscles just a bit for show. Ziva reached for the emergency kit they kept in the truck, not answering. "I would vote for you, if there was a vote for the most eligible bachelorette." Hmm. Actually, that was an idea. After all, why should the women have all the fun on this? And something told him that NCIS could use the distraction once this mess blew over. His team for sure. Let's see, there was Ziva, Abby ... He tensed.

Shit. _Abby_!

Having noticed the sudden tension in his muscles, Ziva looked at him, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. "Abby? Has anyone told her?" It should have been him. With Gibbs in the hospital, it was his job to keep the sensitive forensic analyst sane.

Ziva frowned. "I do not know. But, she is Abby. I guess the call for backup may have alerted her to the situation. Or Ducky or McGee may have informed her." Most likely she was right, but he still reached for the cell in his jacket though. "Hold still," Ziva chided him as she treated his wound with antiseptic.

Tony gave her another dark look but changed the phone to his right hand. First, he tried the lab. No answer. Then her cell. Voice mail. What was this, not-be-reached-by-phone-day? "I can't get her."

"Then it must be how I suggested. She is most likely already at the hospital." Having treated the wound to her satisfaction, Ziva proceeded to wrap it with gauze. "You can talk to her once we get there. She knows surely that you have other responsibilities right now. There, you are good to leave."

"Good to go," Tony corrected, but his heart wasn't in it. He still had trouble believing that he could have forgotten Abby. Gibbs wouldn't have. But he was't here. And as Gibbs' brief retirement to Mexico all those years ago had established, Tony was most definitely not Gibbs. Sharing a lot with his leader, having learned even more from him - but he was still Tony. It was the only way it worked for his team and him. Right. He forced himself to put on a leery grin. "Thanks. You can play nurse anytime with me. Though for the next time I suggest you getting a nice little uniform to go with it. I know this place that has great ..."

She boxed him on his arm, hard. Thankfully, it was the right one. "You finish that sentence and it is going to be the left one. Remember, I know where your wound is."

Yes, she did, and he had no doubts that she'd go through with her threat. Pulling her punch though. Still, they had a GPS to follow. Hopefully straight to Tom. Somehow, Tony doubted that Tom would be caught so easily; they still had to try it though. Playtime over. He quickly pulled out one of the spare shirts they kept in the truck and put it on. His ruined one, a new one at that, wandered into an evidence bag. His jacket too. Both were splattered with blood and most likely with gun powder residue as well. While he doubted it was going to tell them anything new, he wasn't going to risk the integrity of the evidence. If anything, IA would want to have it in order to evaluate his kill shot. Besides, no way was he ever going to wear those clothes again. Finally, he grabbed his backpack and some extra ammo, and turned back to Ziva. "Okay, let's go."

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><p>With the evidence truck and Gibbs' car shot out, Tony borrowed a sedan to follow the GPS back to where the shooters had hopefully come from. It was about a twenty minute car ride, leading them into a very suburban neighborhood – to a two-storey house that kind of reminded Tony of Gibbs' house. Thinking about his boss made him grind his teeth. Tim had called, but only to tell them that Gibbs had been taken into surgery and that it was too early to tell anything. And that he actually had called Abby and that she was with them, holding it together as well as possible – for Abby. Looking over to the inconspicuous house he couldn't help but think that they were wasting their time here. He'd rather be at the hospital. Maybe there wasn't much for him to do there, but at least he'd be where the others needed him.<p>

"Maybe the car was not the shooter's after all?" Ziva asked, apparently sharing the same doubts.

"Maybe. Could be a perfect decoy though. We need to check it out either way." He got out of the car and walked to the front door, signaling Ziva to go around back. His hand drew his gun, he kept it at his side though. No need to scare some old lady to death if they really were on a wild goose chase. Didn't stop him from taking a peek through the window first. No old lady in sight, or anyone else. Nor did he see anything suspicious. Hmm. Actually, it almost looked _too_ innocent to him. Of course that could just be wishful thinking. Shaking his head, he closed the distance to the door and rang the doorbell. It stayed quiet, despite him waiting for a minute. By the lack of noise from the back of the house he assumed no one had tried to fled through the backdoor either.

For a second, he contemplated his next move. They had no warrant to enter and search the house. Then again, they had probable cause that this was the lair of a group of terrorists, no? Old dock, one executed Ranger, four shooters, one agent down. Yeah, if they found something in there, he surely could find a way to justify going in without a warrant.

Of course, he could also simply blame it on the probie, he mused as the door opened and he came face to face with Ziva, who had a glint in her eyes that had little to do with her being an NCIS agent and everything with her being ex-Mossad. He raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged. "The backdoor was open. I thought I heard a cry for help."

"Uh-huh," was all he said. After all, he couldn't really blame her for doing the same thing he was about to do, could he? He frowned. Maybe not when they were partners. For the moment, though ... "Next time wait for my orders before you commit a felony, Ziva," he said quietly, briefly meeting her eyes. They narrowed. He held them, waiting. This was an important moment. He couldn't have Ziva doing whatever she wanted. He needed to be able to trust that she listened to his decisions. That she came to him before doing something that could endanger the mission, the team or her career.

Finally, she huffed and turned away with a scowl. Tony inaudibly breathed out with relief. Okay. Proceeding as if nothing had happened, he walked into the house, taking a look around. It felt abandoned. "No one here."

"I only cleared the ground floor, but no, I don't think so."

Tony nodded. "Go check upstairs." While Ziva moved to the stairs, he walked through the living room. The furniture was nice and kinda new. Could be out of any average catalogue. The TV looked also new, it was a poor choice for a new TV though. No recorder, no TIVO. Hmm. His eyes fell one one single photo standing on a chest of drawers. He moved towards it just as Ziva came back down the stairs.

"No one upstairs." She looked at the photo in Tony's hands. "Those are the shooters I killed. This _is_ their house then."

With a frown, Tony continued to stare at the photo that showed a blond woman, quite nice looking, in a summer dress, on the arm of a tall, well-built man with brown hair, smiling into the camera, standing on a small bridge that looked like it was in Venice. "Geri and Paul." While he had wondered what kind of a name Geri was for a man, he had still been surprised to hear from Ziva that one of the perps she had taken down had been a woman. So far, this operation had had men written all over it. Of course he knew that there were dangerous women out there, female mercenaries or assassins. Hell, two of his partners in a row were dangerous and more than capable women. It still didn't feel right.

Actually, nothing here felt right. Putting the frame back down, he took another look, his frown deepening. "It's not abandoned. It's uninhabited," he muttered, understanding dawning on him.

Ziva gave him a look as if she questioned his sanity. Nothing new there. "What are you talking about?"

Unfazed, he turned towards her. "If you plan something really nasty and don't want anyone to get suspicious, what do you do?"

She watched him, offering no answers. Which was good, because he was on a roll. "You become the most boring, average people. You go buy or rent a nice suburban house, hire people who pose as a couple and set up operations right under everyone's noses. Look around. Any touch of personality is totally lacking, everything looks like it came straight out of a catalogue or maybe even a show room. And this photo? First of all, why just one? Were there more upstairs, in the bedroom perhaps?" Ziva shook her head and he could see, that she was listening. "Second, does this look to you like a couple in love? They are in Venice and all they give us is cliché. No, this isn't real. Nothing here is real." He was right, he could practically feel it.

"If you are right, then where is the evidence of foul play?" Ziva asked.

Their eyes met. "The basement!" they said at the same time and were already moving towards the kitchen. If there was a basement, the door to it had to be there. Tony signaled Ziva to stay behind him. He doubted there was still someone here, but it could never hurt to be cautious. Sure enough, they found a door in the kitchen with stairs leading down behind it. Step by step they went down until they stood in the basement. At first look it looked like upstairs. Boringly normal and inconspicuous. But Tony wasn't thrown off that easily. His gut was telling him that he was right and the second thing Gibbs had ever taught him was to always listen to his gut. Not that he had needed many lessons on that on; after six years on the force he already had the sense to x listen to what it had to say. So he took a closer look at the basement. "It's too small," he realized after a moment. He walked to the wall on the far side. "This wall here is too close to match the one upstairs."

Ziva didn't question his words. Instead, she started to feel along the wall, Tony doing the same on the other side. It was Ziva who found the switch, close to the corner. The wall slid left, revealing a door. This time it was Ziva who went through first, with Tony close behind her. As anticipated, no one was in the hidden room either. Unlike the rest of the house, this room looked nothing like average. Quite the contrary. A state of the art security system took up one wall, with twelve monitors showing every inch of the house and the street. No one was coming close to this house without them knowing it. Another wall was littered with plans. Of buildings and, as Tony took a closer look, of bombs. That wasn't what made Tony's blood run cold, though.

No, it was a container that Ziva lifted off the table that stood in the middle of the room. There was a sign on it that declared it held dangerous, poisonous material. The biological kind. And it was empty.

Shit. Terrorists after all.

TBC

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><p><em>Author's note: First of all, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed or put in an alert for this one. I hope you enjoyed it, even if it is admittedly a bit of a filler. Next we'll make a trip to the hospital, it's already in the pipeline so stay tuned in! <em>


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Leaving Ziva in charge of the crime scene and with orders to question the neighbors, Tony had returned to his car. It had gone against every instinct to leave Ziva there with only some stranger to have her six, but what choice did he have? McGee was still at the hospital with Gibbs, and he had to notify the director, who still wasn't picking up his phone, that they had a biological weapon loose somewhere in Washington. So he had decided to head back to the Navy Yard in order to track down Vance. Or Shelley who he was still unable to reach either. Seriously, once this was over, he was going to sic Gibbs on their case to teach them Rule 3.

But after driving at max speed through Washington, he found himself pulling into the parking lot of Bethesda. For a moment he contemplated this decision his gut had made, drumming with his fingers on the steering wheel. He really should go find the director. Then again, it wasn't like he planned to stay long. Just to get an update from Ducky and briefly speak with Abby and McGee, see how they were holding up. Actually, he knew there was something else he should tell them – that, though, was something he thought was Vance's job, not his. One more reason why he should continue on to the Navy Yard. Damn it, why had the director picked now of all times to be unreachable? Tony couldn't do both his and Gibbs' job!

With that thought he got out of the car and slammed the car door shut with way more force than necessary, stalking into the hospital. Screw Vance. He needed to check on the rest of his team and basta, the half an hour wouldn't hurt. He had done everything he could do for the moment, having all the evidence bagged right now and sent on its way to NCIS, calling every one who needed to be called about the threat of a biological weapon on Washington's territory for now until they knew more concrete things and leaving Ziva to question the only people they had so far who could qualify as potential witnesses. The only thing left out was telling Vance, who then could inform the SecNav who would in turn inform all the big guns. And it wasn't Tony's fault that he had failed to do that so far.

Having arrived at the main desk, Tony asked for Gibbs, being pointed one floor up towards the surgical waiting area. Saying thanks, he opted for the stairs, not having the patience to wait for the elevator. It didn't take long to find his team. They weren't the only ones in the waiting room but they sure took up most of it. Abby sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs, silent tears smearing her heavy mascara, with Jimmy sitting beside her, looking pale, his arm uncomfortably around her shoulders. He had washed the blood off his hands and was wearing a scrub top. McGee was standing, leaning against the window, the worry deeply etched into his face. No sign of Ducky. Probably, he was in with Gibbs or at least in some observation room. It was Tim who saw him first, and straightened.

"Tony."

Abby's head shot up and Tony braced himself, already anticipating her turning into a human canon ball. Sure enough, seconds later she hit him, desperately clinging to him and shaking in his arms with quiet sobs. "Oh, Tony!" It broke his heart a little and silently he just held her tight, letting her let it all out. Honestly, it soothed him as much as it seemed to soothe her. This was still Gibbs in there in surgery. Their Gibbs, special to all of his extended team but probably to none more so than himself and Abby. When her sobs finally subsided, he rubbed her back. "Hey, he's Gibbs, Abs. He'll be all right, you'll see. Headslapping us for worrying so much about just two small bullet wounds," he whispered into her ear.

Nodding, she let go of him, wiping at her eyes, smearing more of the mascara. "He only headslaps you."

He smiled. "Right. Hey, why don't you go tidy up a bit? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look ... Well, why don't you go see for yourself?" She thought about protesting, he could see that, but in the end, she shrugged and turned away. He stopped her with a touch to her hand. "Abby, I'm sorry I didn't call you. It should have been me who told you."

Again she shrugged. "It's okay. I know you had more important things to do."

His eyes narrowed. "Not more important, Abs. Just more urgent," he clarified and kissed her on the top of her black hair. She looked up at him with a smile. A small, wary one, but a true smile. As she went to the bathroom, he turned to the other two, debating whom he should speak to first. McGee made the decision for him by walking over.

They looked at each other for a long moment without speaking. Finally, Tony nodded. "You did a hell of a job back there, Tim." The younger agent just shrugged, causing Tony to lay a hand on his shoulder and look him straight in the eyes. "You did. Without you, Ziva and I would never have made it across the dock. And you got Gibbs to the hospital in time, didn't let anything happen to Ducky and Jimmy _and_ called Abby. Hell of a job, Tim. Gibbs would be proud of you. I know I am."

Tim swallowed, but nodded. Tony let it go, for now. He knew it hadn't looked to McGee as if he had done much; that it would take some time to accept that he had done what was necessary and damn well at that. "Did you find out something?" Tim asked.

"Maybe," was all Tony was willing to say for now. "Is Ducky in with Gibbs? I need to speak with him."

Jimmy joined them. "They wouldn't let him in on the surgery, but Dr Mallard managed to at least be allowed to observe the surgery from the observation room."

"I bet he did," smiled Tony. "Any chance I can get back there too? Or that someone tells him I'm here?"

"I'll go ask," said Jimmy and disappeared.

"How's your arm?"

Startled, Tony turned back to Tim. "What?"

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Your arm, Tony. Where you were shot. Don't think I didn't notice that."

Oh, that. "It's just a graze, McWorry. I'm fine."

The probie actually had the audacy to roll his eyes. "Uh-huh. Why don't we go down to the emergency room after you talked with Ducky and let a doctor be a judge of that? Or better yet, ask Ducky to take a look."

Taking a step back, Tony frowned. "I said I'm fine, McNag. Besides, Ziva already cleaned and dressed the scratch. I'm good. Oh look, there's Jimmy." And he escaped by going to meet him out in the hall.

"I'll verify that with Ziva," Tim called after him.

Jee-ez, what was it with them? There they'd almost lost Gibbs and all McOverexaggerating and Ziva could talk about was that harmless little scratch. He'd been hurt worse by a cat than by that bullet.

"The nurse will go fetch Dr Mallard," Jimmy told him. Nervously, he shifted on his feet. "Hey, are you okay? I think I saw blood on your jacket back there."

Ugh, not Palmer too! "Must have been Gibbs'," he evaded, tired of insisting that he was fine. He turned the tables round. "How about you? You holding up? You looked kind of shaken there for a moment."

Fortunately, the distraction worked. A bit too well. Jimmy's face scrunched up with self-disgust. "You mean when I froze in fear, _again_? When a few feet from me lay a man bleeding half to death and I did nothing but just cower there like a statue of a coward? When my doing nothing risked your life because you had to tackle me down so I wouldn't get shot as apparently I am not sensible enough to think of seeking cover myself when someone is shooting at me?"

"Whoa, Jimmy, ease up, man." Like with Tim, Tony grabbed his shoulders, with both hands though. His Gremlin friend definitely needed both shoulders squeezed. "You froze, it happens. Someone was shooting at you. That's not an everyday occurrence for you. No one trained you how to act when someone is gunning for you. No one, _no one_, is thinking less of you because you reacted like the civilian you are. Besides, what I saw was that when Gibbs needed you, you were there for him, doing everything you could to save him, without hesitating, without thinking. You did good, Jimmy. Don't doubt that for a second longer."

"You're just saying that because you're my friend." Jimmy sighed and looked at him, with at least some color coming back to his cheeks. "You saved my life, Tony. Thank you." Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Jimmy wouldn't let him. "Here comes Dr Mallard. I'll leave you two alone."

"Jimmy," Tony tried to stop him, but the chagrined young man just shook his head and walked back into the waiting room.

"Anthony, my dear boy. I do hope you've had someone look at that wound of yours by now. If not I'm more than willing to do so. Even if it may look only very small, one can never be too careful. Why ..."

"Ziva took care of it," Tony interrupted Ducky, grinding his teeth. Enough with that graze already! That was not why he had come here. "How is he?"

Ducky looked at him for a moment before he sighed. "Very well. The bullet to his shoulder is not life threatening, although it tore through some muscle."

Tony frowned, knowing exactly what that could mean. "The mobility of his right arm?"

"It is too early to tell. Knowing Jethro though, it would surprise me if he could not regain full mobility. It may take some while though." Ducky paused as he and Tony had the same thought: that it would surely still not take as much time as the doctors would predict. "However, the main concern right now is the chest wound. The bullet stopped only one and a half inch away from his heart; which means they have to proceed very carefully as a wrong move could cause the bullet to still reach its intended goal. Needless to say we have to avoid that at all cost. Another cause of concern is the amount of blood he has lost."

Tony nodded, taking it all in. Translated, it meant he was not doing all that great. Suddenly, there was a big lump in his throat.

Now it was Ducky who laid a reassuring hand on Tony's shoulder. "This may sound discouraging, and I won't deny that Jethro is in considerable danger. But it is no reason to despair either. While he may perhaps not be so young anymore, he is a very strong and healthy man. And a fighter. He is fighting, Anthony, of that I can assure you."

It was good to hear that. Still, it also meant that Gibbs _had_ to fight, meaning this was not something to take lightly. The lump in his throat grew bigger. Restlessly, he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. Do I need to call Jackson?"

It was one of the rare times he saw Ducky shrug. "I am not sure, to be honest. Truth is, if this were any other person, I'd suggest to call the family in. Jethro however is not any other person. He will not appreciate it if we call his father."

True enough. But that was actually not his main concern. "Yeah, but what I need to know is if I need to call him in case there are any decisions to be made. I mean, with Jenny dead and him being reconciled with Jackson he _is_ next of kin, isn't he?" Well, of course Jackson was next of kin anyway. Last time Gibbs had been seriously hurt though, Jenny had made all the decisions. Tony had figured out Gibbs had put her name down. He'd wondered about it, but then, Jenny and Gibbs had a complicated relationship, probably being the main reason for Rule 12. That was when he grew aware that Ducky was looking at him oddly. "What?"

"Oh my. Of course he never told you. I should have known," Ducky muttered, actually looking annoyed.

A sense of uneasiness came over Tony. "Told me what?"

"Anthony, Jethro has named _you_ his next of kin. Any decisions to be made - should there be any, although I do not think so - are yours," Ducky said softly.

Tony's mind went blank, the lump in his throat suddenly cutting off his air altogether.

Ducky patted his shoulder. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, honestly, sometimes I wonder what that man is thinking. He _really_ should have told you."

Yes, he should have, definitely. Then again, Tony wasn't really surprised. Shocked yes. But not surprised. Most of all though, he was overwhelmed. At last he managed to get some air back into his lungs. "I think I need to sit down."

Alarmed, Ducky looked at him, probably stunned to hear Anthony DiNozzo Jr admitting to a weakness. Last time such a little miracle happened, Tony had been blown into the side of an hill, still weak from his bout with the plague. So yeah, he guessed Ducky had a right to be startled. Not wasting a second, Ducky guided Tony onto the nearest chair where he promptly put his head between his knees.

Seeing this, Tim and Jimmy both started towards them but Ducky waved them away.

How could Gibbs expect him to take such a thing on his conscience, Tony mused as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Without at least warning him? He could never make such decisions. What if he made the wrong one? It would be bad enough to lose Gibbs, unthinkable really, but to have it be his fault? Gibbs might as well just hold the gun to his head and pull the trigger himself.

"Tony, I can imagine this being quite a shock for you," Ducky said soothingly, sitting down beside him. "And while I can't make any promises that you won't face such a decision soon, in my professional opinion and after knowing Jethro for so many years, I very much doubt you'll have to do so shortly."

Hearing that helped a little. Enough for Tony to be able to sit back up again and lean against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. Damn Gibbs. What the hell had the man been thinking?

For once, his thoughts must have been clearly written on his face as Ducky chuckled softly. "Really, who else would he name next of kin, Anthony? Surely you know what a place you hold in Jethro's life."

Did he? Maybe. Sometimes. Probably something along the same way that Tony felt about the older man. And why Gibbs was _his_ next of kin. Running his hands over his face, he sighed. Okay. He couldn't deal with this right now. He had a terrorist to find, probably more than one. Once Washington was safe again and Gibbs out of the woods - he had to be, and that better be without Tony first having to make some unimaginable choices - then, maybe, they could talk about it over a beer and a steak. Or better yet, down in the basement with some of that disgusting bourbon of Gibbs'.

Abby chose that moment to come back, her mascara freshly applied, though not as thick as usual. She threw them a curious look but must have felt that Tony still needed a moment as she went on over to McGee. Seeing them together, he sighed deeply. Fuck Vance. As much as he wanted to avoid this, as long as he couldn't reach the director and Gibbs was lying in there being operated on, Tony had to continue to make the unpleasant decisions. Shit. "Ducky ..."

Again, the older man seemed to know exactly what he was trying to say. "Do you need me to perform the autopsies?"

Relieved, Tony nodded. "Yeah. We found evidence that the group shooting at us were part of a terrorist group. Ducky, they have a biological weapon. We don't know who they are, where they are, we don't know yet which toxin it is or what their target is. The bodies and the evidence we gathered is all we have. We need answers, as fast as possible."

Ducky shook his head. "I see. I'm surprised that Director Vance let us stay here as long, with the situation turned so dire."

"We only just found out the newest developement," Tony evaded. No need to let others in on Vance's failings. For now, that could stay between Tony and the Director. "Thank you. You know I wouldn't ask if I hadn't to. But I still don't want to leave Gibbs alone. That's why I wanted to ask you if you can do the autopsies without Jimmy. I know it's a lot to ask, I mean, it's four bodies. You can call in any other help you want. But if you don't need him absolutely I'd really feel better if Jimmy could stay and watch over Gibbs."

"As indeed would I, Anthony. I will talk with Mr Palmer, tell him what to look for." Ducky stood up. "Do not worry too much, about this, my boy. We all knew what we signed on for and that sometimes, the job has to go first, as hard as it may be. The others will understand. Besides, the surgery will still go on for a few hours. After that it will take some more time until Jethro awakes. There is really nothing we can do here for now. We might as well get back and do our job."

It wasn't quite as easy, but if Ducky were to reassure Tim and Abby like that, they might be convinced that it was okay to leave the hospital. Actually, he wasn't that concerned about McGee. Abby though was another story altogether. Gibbs had taught her to be an excellent Mother bear. Then again, the boss would be the first to order them back to work. Maybe, just maybe, that argument could work with her.

Grimacing, he stood up, and together with Ducky, they made their way over to their three young friends. Again, Tony explained the situation. Again, Ducky explained that there really wasn't anything they could do for Gibbs here at the hospital anyway. Tony reinforced that by pointing out that this was what Gibbs would expect from them. Then there was silence while Tony waited, holding his breath.

Abby was the first to speak. "Okay, let's go." Four men looked at her with their chins down. She smiled. "What? Tony's right. It's what Gibbs would want us to do." She grabbed her purse and her umbrella and went to the door. The men still stood rooted to their places. She looked back at them. "Come on, the sooner we get to work, the sooner we can get back to the hospital."

With a grin, Tony followed. Abby sure was always good for a surprise. It felt good that at least one thing remained normal on this hell of a day. And to think it was barely lunch time yet.

He shuddered to think what the rest of this day was going to bring him. His gut told him that he wasn't going to like it. Not one bit.

TBC

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><p><em>Author's note: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed and put in an alert! You guys are great! I do hope you liked this chapter as well, because frankly, it was my favorite so far. Boy did I enjoy writing it! More soon, where we'll get back to the case. <em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Feeling tired, Ziva got into the car one of the junior agents had brought along for her on Tony's orders. She had never much cared for doing witness interviews, going from door to door to ask always the same questions, getting contradicting answers, barely ever a useful one. It was a task she gladly left to Tony or McGee. They always seemed to get more cooperation out of witnesses. Especially Tony. He was a master at getting people to talk; always bringing back the most useful information that could be gathered from them. Today though, there had been no one else to do the interviews but greener than green junior agents, and Tony had been very clear in his orders for her.

Of course, today everything was different.

Just sitting in the car, Ziva allowed herself to finally have a moment to herself, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the past few hours since she and McGee had teased Tony about that list of bachelors. Was that really only three hours ago? It seemed like much longer.

It disturbed her, how much the events had shaken her. She was Mossad, or had been for many, many years. She had seen many cruel things in her life, had done some of them herself, while other things had been done to her. Maybe her father had been right – maybe being in America, being a federal agent, had made her weak. Or at least had softened up the harsh exterior she had needed to survive not only as a Mossad agent but perhaps even more so as the daughter of Eli David. Usually, she was convinced that was actually a good thing. In moments like these though, she had her doubts. She could not stop thinking about Gibbs falling, seeing the fearless and always so strong leader so weak, so helpless. She could not stop thinking about the panic she felt when she saw her partner leave his cover to retrieve what had seemed like Gibbs' body; seeing one of the bullets actually hitting him.

It had frozen her. She did not think anyone but McGee had noticed it with everything else happening around them, but that panic had immobilized her. Instead of helping him to provide cover for their two teammates she had only knelt there, watching in all consuming fear, doing nothing.

Such a thing had never happened to her before. It was unacceptable. Her very immobility could have cost Gibbs and Tony their lives.

She could not fathom how she would have lived with such knowledge.

Thankfully, Gibbs and Tony had made it to safety. Only then had the icy frozen-ness of her mind melted away and she had been able to breathe again. To do her job.

Tony's plan had been their only chance to survive the situation. Yet, again, while she knew that Tony was the faster runner, better shot and more adept fighter than McGee, she had wished he had sent Tim after the other shooters instead of going himself. Not that she wanted something to happen to McGee, it was just that she thought she could survive his death. It would be hard, no doubt - but she was not so sure how she could live without Tony. And maybe, if it had not been Tony going after the other men, she would not have been this distracted while she was going after her own two shooters. The second one, the blonde woman, had almost gotten her. Only a noise from her shoes had alerted Ziva to her presence at the last second, taking her out only moments before the woman would have shot her.

Ziva closed her eyes. She didn't have to wonder what had caused all these unfamiliar reactions in her. Oh, she knew the reason all too well. Had known it for a while now, even though she had fought like a lioness against those unwanted and forbidden emotions claiming her heart more and more. It was just that she had never anticipated that those feelings would have such an detrimental effect on her ability to function in a dire situation. She wasn't sure how to deal with this. How to overcome this.

Slowly, Ziva opened her eyes again. The question that really frightened her was, was she sure that she wanted to overcome her emotions in the first place? Perhaps really, the answer to that question was no.

* * *

><p>There had been many times that Tim had wished to be alone in the bullpen so he could work uninterrupted. It happened so rarely that he was the only one at his desk, (apart from the few minutes it took to go to the bathroom,) while the other two team-members were out. And when there was no case, Gibbs or Tony would always be there. Hence his longing for quiet moments when no overgrown boy was throwing either paper balls or snarky comments his way, no scary ex-sniper was growling at him when an electronic device didn't work to his satisfaction or an equally scary ex-Mossad agent was trying to get him to side with her, usually in her verbal war with the aforementioned overgrown boy.<p>

Finally, his wish had been granted, Tim thought with a scowl that would have made Gibbs proud. Too bad the boss was fighting for his life in the hospital so he couldn't see it. And instead of concentrating on his work, important work at that, he worried about Ziva who was out there questioning witnesses with no one to watch her back properly but some probie. While Tim didn't particularly like remembering being a probie fresh from Norfolk, he did remember how green he had been and how inadequate his ability to watch his own back had been, let alone someone else's.

How had Tony been able to bear the thought of him being out alone with Gibbs or Kate back then, Tim wondered, for the first time understanding how hard it was to trust a partner's life to a probie.

Then again, when he thought about it, except for the times when Gibbs gave out other orders, Tony had always taken him along out into the field. Tim frowned. Actually, during his time as team lead, Tony had almost always paired himself up with Agent Lee. Back then, McGee had been a little hurt, seeing it as a sign of lack of trust. To be fair, after having Gibbs throw them away like he had, Tim had had some trust issues and anger to overcome and Tony had had to take the brunt of them. Now though ... Stopping what he was doing altogether, Tim thought back further, to the time shortly after Kate's death when Ziva joined the team. Another time he usually avoided thinking about. But again, he could now remember all the times Ziva and Tony had been out in the field together at first.

No, this definitely wasn't a coincidence anymore. Tony had deliberately teamed himself up with any new team member coming along. And Gibbs had let him.

Tim stared up the stairs where Tony had vanished to in order to go talk with the director. Most of the times it was so damn easy to forget what an excellent agent Tony was. For all the attention he usually craved for, when he did truly extraordinary things, he mostly hid them or played them down. It was like with his injuries. He could go on and on about a mosquito bite but the moment he was hurt more seriously, he clammed up like an oyster.

But then moments like today happened, when everything went FUBAR and every one else, even Ziva, was too shocked to do anything, let alone think straight, while Tony saved first Palmer and then Gibbs, with no regard for his own life one should add, barking out orders left and right.

Tim had thought he was going to die today. Seeing how their enemies fired at their slightest movements and knowing it was only a question of time until a bullet hit one of the tanks, he had truly not seen a way out of this. Not Tony though. No, he of course had a plan, a crazy and dangerous one, but a plan nonetheless.

And look how it had turned out: everyone had survived, even Gibbs. Not only that, now they'd found a terrorist group with a biological weapon before they had a chance to execute whatever their plan was, even taking three of them down already. All thanks to Tony. On top of that he had even found the time to check on every member of the extended team and have some encouraging words for them.

Ever since meeting Gibbs and his team, McGee had always only wanted to be like the former Marine one day. Perhaps not exactly like Gibbs, more like a technologically adept, modern and more polite Gibbs, but still like their fearless leader. Right about now though he thought that being like one very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo Jr sounded like a damn good and noble goal in life.

* * *

><p>Unbeknown to Tim, Tony was standing on the mezzanine, watching him and looking over the rest of the bullpen. On the ride over from the hospital, Tony had told everyone what he wanted them to do first: Ducky was to do the autopsies of Paul and Geri, Tony figuring that those two were the most likely ones, even dead, to give them some answers. Abby had to see if she could find out what that biohazard container had held and run the prints and facials of the shooters. Tim was to go through any information that could be found on the rent or purchase of the house and then try to get into the computers they had confiscated there. While he himself had first to talk to Vance then meet up with a sketch artist so they could finally add a picture to the BOLO he had already put out for Tom. Unless Abby could lift a print off one of the pieces of evidence and get a hit for it, and Tony wasn't counting on that, he was the only one who had seen him.<p>

The plan had worked, mostly. Until Tony had barged into Vance's anteroom, determined to not be put off by Shelley or anyone until he could either see Vance or be given a means of contacting him ASAP. But Shelley was not at her desk, nor was Vance. Calling up the security gate, he learned that neither had come in today. For a long moment after that he had stood in the empty anteroom, before finally heading out to stand where he now was, leaning on the railing. Closing his eyes, he ran both hands through his hair.

He was not stupid. Vance not coming in and being unreachable could maybe be explained, if he had an important meeting or something like that. But Shelley not showing up? He had known the faithful secretary for years now and not once had she not come in without organizing someone to cover for her. Not once. For it to happen on the one day all this other shit happened - no way this was a coincidence.

Silently, Tony berated himself. It hadn't felt right from the first time he couldn't reach either one of them. But he had ignored it, because he simply couldn't deal with that on top of everything else. A mistake. He just hoped neither Shelley or Vance had to pay for his mistake.

The problem was, he was at a loss for what to do now. God, he needed Gibbs! He could deal with stepping in as team-lead, he could deal with a terrorist threat even, he had been trained for that, but what the heck was he supposed to do when his director and his secretary went missing? He bet Gibbs would know what to do.

'Focus, DiNozzo!' Tony gave himself a pep talk. 'Channel your inner Gibbs.'

What to do, what to do? Inform the SecNav? Probably. He should know that his director was missing. But - Tony had no proof of that so far, other than his gut. Theoretically, everything could have a harmless explanation, he guessed. Maybe Vance was really at some super secret meeting and Shelley had an emergency and just no time to call it in and look for a deputy. She was a single mother of two kids, one of the kids could have gotten sick or had an accident. Or she could have had an accident. Or maybe she was with Vance and the stand in she had organized had failed to show up because of whatever.

No, he couldn't go to Jarvis with just his gut instinct. But maybe with the terrorist situation they had at hand. Yeah, that he definitely should. Sighing, he straightened and stepped back into the anteroom. Ever since his undercover op for Jarvis he'd had the SecNav's number on speed dial. A half a minute later, for the first time in his time at NCIS, he was tempted to throw the phone very Gibbs-like at the wall. Damn it, he was so sick of voice mail! Leaving a message, he closed it. What was a chain of command there for when none of the chains could be bothered to be disturbed?

Tony froze. No, it couldn't be. Could it? Then again, how big a chance was there that all of this was a coincidence?

His gut knew the answer. Problem was, if anyone was going to listen to him, someone with the power to do something about all this, he needed evidence. But all hands on deck were working on the terrorist threat – one that was very real. He couldn't spare anyone for something his gut was insisting on. Not before he had some evidence. Which left him with only one choice: gather the evidence by himself.

First though, there was still the biological weapon they had to find. And with Vance MIA, he guessed he was supposed to alert their sister agencies and ask for their support. Great. Because he loved working with the suits so much. Scowling, he once more opened his phone.

Wonder oh wonder, for a change, the call was actually picked up. "DiNutso. What a surprise. Did you dial the wrong number? Or have you finally had enough of how Gibbs treats you and you want to come and work for a real agency?"

Tony gritted his teeth. "We have a biological weapon loose in Washington. And Gibbs has been shot twice and is undergoing surgery as we speak."

That got Fornell's attention. Tony'd thought it would.

* * *

><p>When Ducky entered his autopsy room, the four body bags were already waiting for him. He knew he should start work, Anthony needed answers, and he would get to it shortly. First though, he would allow himself a few minutes to recollect. After all, he could hardly keep on preaching to Jethro and his boy how important it was to let their bodies have some down time but not follow his own advice.<p>

Heavily, he sat down onto the couch in his office after heating up some water and pouring himself a cup of tea. To be honest, he would much prefer a glass of his finest single malt. That one though had to wait until after he had performed the autopsies. He would never risk missing something or his testimony being doubted or dismissed before court because of alcohol. He could not do that to the victims or the hard working men and women he worked alongside with.

Oh Lord, sometimes he asked himself if he was getting too old for this job. Not because of the autopsies, he doubted he would ever grow tired of finding answers for the dead and their close ones. But being shot at? He had to admit, despite having served in wartime, to suddenly be in the middle of a firefight again had been very exhilarating, but also exhausting and scary. Most of all though, he was tired of seeing his friends being hurt, or worse, dying. Today, he had come very close to losing his oldest and best friend. Actually, he might still lose him. While he believed every word he had said to Anthony earlier on, as a ME he knew well how there sadly existed no guarantees in life.

But he didn't only worry about his old friend. Anthony too was often a source of his worry, today of course was a fine example. Less because of the injury he suffered - ah, he really should take a look at that one himself soon, he noted to himself - but more because of the implications Jethro's injury had for him. He had to admit, it had been marvelous to see the usually so strong and unfazed boy being this affected, learning that Jethro had named him next of kin. Those two stubborn men! How could they deny themselves the peace that speaking the truth about their feelings for each other could give their troubled souls?

Even more though, he feared what loading all this extreme responsibility would do to their fragile boy. Most people, ignorant fools, would laugh at him for calling the strong, virile and so exuberant agent fragile. But his psyche was. No wonder, actually, after the childhood, and also the early years in the police force the boy had had. Actually, during his time at NCIS a lot had happened as well that weaker men could not deal with. His young friend had never had an easy life, that much was obvious the moment you caught a glimpse of the man he was behind all those masks and fronts Anthony put up in order to protect himself. The downside was that it also made it extremely difficult for him to connect emotionally to those people who did care about him and it made him mistrust every kind gesture. He had gotten better at accepting them, true, still, Anthony had a long way ahead of himself.

To make it worse, the boy also had an uncanny habit of taking on himself the guilt for the most unlikely things that were simply ridiculous, and he knew the events of today would certainly qualify. After all, with Jethro in the hospital, Anthony was the one responsible. Still. Ducky hoped that nothing more would happen for which Anthony could eventually blame himself.

* * *

><p>Tim had just finished gathering everything he could on the rent of the house as Tony came back down the stairs, heading straight for his desk. "At fifteen hundred we have a meeting in the conference room with FBI, CIA and Homeland. Tim ... you, Abby and Ducky will have to present what we've got so far. Don't make us look bad. We want this to stay a NCIS operation, so we better woo them with our excellent progress in this case. What you've got on the house?"<p>

How Tony knew that Tim had finished his search was beyond him, but then he didn't really question it. "The house was rented six months ago from an old couple, Roger and Maria Miller, by Paul and Geri Cullum. According to the documents I could find on the lease, they're a newly married couple from London, UK. He and his wife apparently own a company specializing in the sale of security systems."

Tony snorted. "How convenient. Reminds me of an episode of Scarecrow and Mrs King. God, I love that show. One of the best spy shows ever."

Rolling his eyes, Tim continued quickly before Tony could launch into a description of the show or the episode. "I'm looking at the company now, especially the client list, but I've only just started. The payment for the rent was made from a joint bank account they opened after coming to the States. So far nothing stands out."

Tony shrugged. "Dig deeper. They were deep cover and judging from what I saw in that house, they have very good funding. So it's expected that the superficial stuff is solid."

Tim nodded. "The searches for their immigration info and their past in the UK are running." With a frown he watched as Tony retrieved his weapon, his badge and the comm-unit from his drawer. "What are you doing? We got something?" His hand automatically went to his own drawer.

But Tony shook his head. "Just following a hunch. You stay on those searches and get into those computers we collected." He grabbed the spare jacket he had already retrieved from his locker. "I've got a feeling that Fornell may show up early. Should I not be back by then send him to the conference room and let him wait for all I care. Maybe you can find something for him to read."

Tim's frown deepened. "Then who else is going with you?"

"You'll reach me on my cell if there's anything," Tony said, turning away, obviously not willing to give him a straight answer to his question.

That could only mean one thing. Before he knew it, Tim was out of his chair and around his desk to block Tony's escape. "You're going out alone?" he accused, incredulous. "After everything that's happened, you want to go out there alone?"

Tony stopped, now sporting a matching frown between his eyes. "It's fine, McOverdramatic. Like I said, it's just a hunch. I'll be probably back in an hour." He moved to sidestep Tim.

Tim blocked his way again. "No. I can go with you. Or you can call Ziva to go with you."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "You and Ziva have your orders. Those are more important right now."

"Okay, then take another agent with you," insisted Tim. While he hated the thought of one of his partners with only probies having their six, it was still better than no backup at all!

But Tony's face closed off. "We're already stretched thin as it is. I can't spare someone for a hunch of mine, not that I have to explain my decisions to you. Now stand back, Special Agent McGee."

It was an order, loud and clear. There was no mistaking it, nor the steel behind the words and Tim found himself gulping. Still, he hesitated. Tony's answering glare could as well have come from Gibbs. Reluctantly, Tim stood back to watch helplessly as Tony left without another word. With a curse that would have had his mother washing out his mouth, he sat back at his desk and immediately started a trace of Tony's cell. If the hardheaded idiot was stupid enough to go out without backup he would at least keep an eye on him.

If Tony had a problem with that, he could just go and add a complaint to his file.

* * *

><p>When Ziva walked back into the bullpen, only Tim was there, scowling at the computer screens. She raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong, McGee? Is there news from the hospital?"<p>

"Ziva! Thank God! Listen, don't unload, just get back on the road. You have to go after Tony. I'll send you his coordinates," Tim told her, the tone of his voice carrying great urgency.

Her heart beat faster, the only sign of her worry, thankfully not one McGee would notice. "Why? What is going on? Where is Tony?"

"Out in the field, following a _hunch_," McGee almost spat with fury. "Alone."

"What! Why did you let him leave alone?" Ziva demanded to ask, already reaching for her drawer to get extra ammo and another comm-unit.

"Believe me, I tried to get him to take someone with him, but he flat-out ordered me off." There was a glint in McGee's eyes she usually only saw in Tony's, normally when he was about to break a rule or planning a prank. "But he didn't leave any orders for you, so you're good to go. Rule 18," he grinned.

She too allowed herself a brief smile. "Seek forgiveness instead of asking permission."

"He left about fifteen minutes ago... still on the road. You may still get to him before he reaches wherever he is heading to." Tim waved at her, the urgency back in his voice. "Go!"

She did not need to be told again.

* * *

><p>Tony drove to Shelley's home first, not really knowing where else to start. He knew where she lived as he had given her a lift now and then. Her car had a habit of dying, and it wasn't much out of his way. Besides, she had kids waiting for her at home, who already couldn't see her all that often due to her crazy working hours, so if he could give them some more time together by giving her a lift, all the better. Tony knew only too well how much it sucked to have absent parents, although Shelley was nothing like Senior. Shelley had to work in order to provide for her two kids, the pension of her husband, fallen in Afghanistan, nowhere near enough. His father had chosen to stay away - or simply sent him away. Then again, sometimes Tony thought that that had perhaps been for the best.<p>

Pulling to the curb in front of Shelley's half of a duplex house, he stayed in the car at first and just took everything in. Her old Dodge stood in the driveway, otherwise all was quiet around the house. No movement behind the windows. No cars that looked out of place beside his. That was until an identical twin pulled up behind him. He frowned and got out of the car, not too surprised to see Ziva getting out of the other one. She joined him, fully geared up, he noticed. "What are you doing here?"

"Providing backup," she answered simply, but he didn't miss the glare she gave him. No words needed to express the thoughts behind that one.

"Can't remember ordering you to do so," he said mildly.

"McGee did. With you acting team-leader, he is acting Senior Field Agent, right? So he too is able to give me orders now." She looked up at him way too innocently. "What is the situation? Why are we here? A tip?"

For a moment he contemplated stressing the point. Looking back at the house, he decided against it. Besides, she wasn't exactly wrong with her point about McGee. Rather an inventive use of rule 18, he had to admit. Nor could he deny that he could use the backup. Like with the Cullums' house, he didn't feel there was danger looming behind this door, but he also thought that something was amiss here. "Sort of. Let's just check it out, see if we find something. You go around back. Channel 5."

Nodding, she didn't lose any time but silently moved toward the house, with Tony close behind her. As she moved to the back of the one-story house, Tony once again moved towards the front door, stopping at the window to take a look inside.

This time though, that one glance had him clenching his teeth, adrenalin pouring into his blood.

TBC

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Wow, you guy's really outdid yourselves! Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy the story so far. I hope you liked this one too. A lot of musing, but I tried to spice it up a bit with the scenes at the end. And I guess it's another cliffie, huh? Oh well, better get used to it. I love cliffies! More soon! <em>


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Shelley was indeed at home as were her kids. Sitting in the middle of the room, bound to their dining chairs with duck tape, the kids gagged, all three of them with eyes big with fear, and crying. Her eldest Ryan, thirteen if he remembered correctly, was already sporting a bruise on his face and there was a small cut over his eyebrow.

Rage seeped into him. One of the things he appreciated most since working with NCIS was that they rarely caught a case with kids involved. It was a blessing, really. In six years on the Force he had seen enough dead or tortured or raped or abused children to last a lifetime. Many cops took the cases with children involved the hardest and he was no exception, problem was that almost always they tended to become those Moby Dick cases for him. The ones where you can't stop thinking about the case, where you forget everything but saving the kid, getting the son of a bitch, preferably dead. Where you get single-minded and obsessed. Where every time you close your eyes, you see the damn kid and what had been done to the poor soul. Or what could happen while you were wasting time with the wrong leads. Where you cared too much.

The kids weren't hurt bad, nor was Shelley, still, it was enough to unleash that particular rage Tony always felt in those cases. 'Cool it,' he ordered himself, thinking furiously. From where he was he could see no one else with them. Could be the bastards were already gone. Or that they stayed hidden, waiting for some overeager idiot to walk in. He could take no risks, not with kids involved. Turning away from the window, he activated his comm. "Possible hostage situation, one adult, two kids, bound in the living room. No perp in sight. Check the windows, see if you can see anyone else in the house," he ordered quietly.

Ziva confirmed calmly and he waited, his heart beating fast. He had to fight every second not to barge in and get them out of there. But that would pretty much be the worst and most stupid thing he could do, so he stayed put.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Ziva's voice came over the comm. "Positive. One armed man in the kitchen. He's on the phone. Can't hear what he's saying. He seems to be alone."

"Stay put." Not losing any more time, he switched the channel to dispatch, calling the hostage situation in. Backup would arrive in five minutes. Too long for Tony's liking. The perp being in the kitchen, away from the hostages, was their best chance to get them out without any bloodshed. It was still a risk, of course, but better than waiting for the backup, risking the perp going back to his hostages and holding a gun to one of their heads. Pressing his lips together, Tony grabbed his small toolkit, turned to the door and proceeded to pick the lock. "David, distract him. Make some noise, whatever, just keep him away from the living room. I'm going in to free them. Comm stays on. On my command, you go in. Only on my command, got it?"

"Going in on your command, got it," Ziva confirmed.

"And Ziva? We need him alive," he added firmly, no matter how much he'd prefer it otherwise. While he wasn't exactly one on one with Gibbs' philosophy of only shooting to kill, in some cases, he agreed hands down. But they needed answers, and getting them from an alive person was easier than from a dead one.

Feeling the lock give way, he carefully turned the knob. He just hoped the perp hadn't booby-trapped the door. From the back of the house he heard a scratching sound. Opening the door just an inch, he waited, his breath held. Nothing happened. Slowly, he pushed the door further open. Finally able to glimpse in, he saw no dangerous wire and still no one else in the room. Meeting Shelley's frightened eyes, he put a finger to his lips. She nodded shakily. He just hoped the kids would follow their mother's lead. With his weapon ready, he slowly came in, quickly checking the space behind the door. No one. If he had to guess, they'd left a babysitter back until they were sure they didn't need Shelley anymore. He didn't want to think about what the guy in the kitchen would have done after they were through with them. Over the comm he heard a crash, like a pot shattering. Followed by the unmistakable sound of a safety being switched off. No more time to lose.

Quickly he moved to the three, one hand already drawing his knife. Silently, he knelt between the kids, offering them a hopefully reassuring smile while he got to work on the duck tape. Thank God it wasn't cuffs or chains! In seconds, he had them free. The two were smart, they didn't make a sound. He would gladly have also taken off the tape over their mouths, but first, that would be loud and hurt them, second, there was no time. He pointed to the door, watching them go as he moved to Shelley. The fear had diminished somewhat, replaced by a glimmer of hope and relief. She too was quickly freed. He didn't need her to tell to go after her kids, the moment she could move, she raced after them. Not before briefly squeezing his hand though.

Once they were gone, part of Tony sagged with relief. Now it was just the usual job. That he could manage. Getting in position by the passageway to the kitchen, Tony inaudibly exhaled. "Now," he ordered softly, stepped around the corner, his outstretched arms steady. "NCIS. _Don't_ move."

The man swiveled towards him, the hand with the gun rising. Behind him, Ziva kicked the backdoor open. "Freeze!"

He froze. His complexion was dark, so the whites of his eyes stood out even more as they glanced back and forth.

"There's no way you get out of this, buddy," Tony warned him. "Put your weapon down."

The perp looked back at him, straight in the eyes. Tony frowned, not liking this. He liked even less the smile the man gave him. Then realization hit him, but it was a second too late. Already, the guy had put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger, before Tony or Ziva could stop him.

Feeling blood splatter his face, Tony watched the body fall onto the previously spotless floor. He blinked. Suicide by cop was one thing. Never pretty, but sadly not that unusual. Most who wanted to die chose that way. In the end, it was easier to shoot at the ones bringing you down than to have the guts like this guy to pull the trigger yourself. Slowly letting his arms sink, he checked on Ziva. She too had gotten splattered, looking back at him with the same surprise he felt.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he muttered, staring back down at the body. The man hadn't looked like the suicidal type. And judging from the lousy security measures he'd had and how easily they had been able to sneak up on him, there was no way this was a professional. So either a fanatic or a hired dumbass. Ugh. He didn't know what he hated more. Both equally unpredictable. But at least, dumbasses could be turned. There was no hope left for fanatics. And as it was not likely that a hired dumbass would have chosen suicide ...

Outside, cars screeched to a stop.

Ugh. They had to get to the bottom of all this. He'd had enough of men falling dead at his feet and getting their blood all over him. "Go get the camera so we can document this mess. I need to talk to Shelley, but I can't show up like this in front of her kids." Ziva didn't move, just stood staring at him, blindly. Focusing back on her, he tilted his head. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Coming out of wherever she had been, she straightened her back. "What? Oh yes, I am fine. I will go get the equipment."

Puzzled, he looked after her, unsure if he should press her about that moment just now. Ziva hated to be pushed. It had been the third death she'd witnessed today; probably she'd just needed a moment there. His partner might be a former assassin, but whatever Gibbs might have thought, it still didn't mean it was easy for her. For any of them ... but hey, now wasn't the time. Later, once this was over, he'd sit her down, make sure she was okay. Let her remind him that he was fine. He sighed.

Getting a pair of gloves out of his jacket pocket, he knelt down beside the body and frisked him. No ID. No wallet. Just like with the other three bodies at the dock. Why was he not surprised?

Ziva came back and they went to work, photographing everything, including themselves. After that, Tony left the LEOs under Ziva's supervision while he went to wash the blood off. He couldn't do much about the clothing, but left at least his jacket back with the other evidence. Damn, the second jacket in less than four hours. If the day continued like this, he'd need NCIS to fund him for an entire new wardrobe.

Finally, he went in search of Shelley, taking note of how the police had secured the scene. He found Shelley with her kids sitting on the edge of the back of an ambulance. The moment she saw him, he had a pretty blonde in his arms, giving him a hug comparable with one from Abby.

"God, Tony! How can I ever thank you? You saved my babies. I ..." A sob swallowed the rest of her words.

Awkwardly, he patted her back, glancing at her kids. The little girl was still crying, her big brother though had a look on his face that he recognized as he held on to his sister. This day would probably stay with him forever. But physically, they seemed okay enough. "No biggie, Shelley. Just doing my job. And you should thank Ziva, really, she did the hard part. But I'm glad you're all unharmed."

She sniffled, but let go. Looking back to her kids, she wrapped her arms around herself, the relief in her face being replaced by misery. "I'm sorry, Tony. I had no choice," she said, barely audible. "They held guns to my babies' head. I had to tell them."

"Vance?" he guessed.

She nodded. "They wanted to know where he was this morning. Where his meeting was taking place."

He frowned. This was not the way to do this. He waved one of the females officers over; one he had run into at other crime scenes over the years. "Shelley, this is Sergeant Wanda Read. She's got two kids of her own. Or is it three already?"

Wanda snorted. "What do you think, Tony, that I'd let my man keep his pipes after I squeezed out that boy of his?"

Tony grinned, but decided against a comeback. Too bad. It would have been beautiful. "Can you watch the kids for us, please, while I ask Shelley a few questions?" After she nodded, he looked back to Shelley, warding off her protest. He couldn't blame her, in her place he wouldn't want his kids out of his sight either, but neither of them had that luxury. "We'll just be over in my car. You'll be able to see them from there."

She sighed but went to her kids, quickly explaining to them where she would be. Once in the car, he began questioning her, first about how they had been taken hostage. It was pretty simple. Three of them had assaulted her and the children by her car as she had wanted to bring the kids to school to then continue to the office. They had grabbed the kids and ordered them back into the house and that was it, naturally. Once secured, they demanded to know when and where Vance had his meeting.

Tony interrupted her at that point. "They knew about the meeting? Not his schedule in general but that specific meeting?"

"Yes." Shelley looked at him. "I don't know how they knew. But they knew, definitely."

"What meeting is this? With whom?"

"I don't know. The director only told me he'd be gone the entire morning, maybe even the whole day. Director Vance made all arrangements himself. Whatever it was, I think it was something big, because there was all this hush-hush about it. Also, the director left orders not to be disturbed, unless in emergency. He said he wouldn't have his cell with him, but he'd take a disposable. It was only yesterday evening that he gave me the number for this second cell. I ... I had to give it to them."

Tony's mind raced, taking this all in. Shelley was right, this extreme level of caution could only mean something big. He thought about the SecNav's cell that had gone straight to voice mail as well. Silently, he let out at least ten of his best curses. Outwardly, he patted Shelley's hand. "It's alright. You did what you had to do, Shelley. No one will blame you for anything and you shouldn't either. What happened next?"

Shelley shrugged. "Two of them left. The rest you know." She swallowed and another crying fit took her. Uncomfortable, he hugged her, again patting her back. She had always been a sharp one, and therefore knew exactly that most likely, the third man left behind had orders to kill them all once they didn't need her anymore.

"When did they leave?" he asked, once that she had calmed down again. It hadn't taken long.

"Around nine o'clock, I think."

Shortly before the ambush at the dock. Tony was not liking where all of this was going. "Does Vance have his protection detail with him?"

Biting her quivering lip, Shelley shook her head. Of course not. Heaven forbid the bodyguard could learn or see something he shouldn't. "This is bad, Tony, isn't it?"

Tony offered her a reassuring smile. "The director is well capable of watching his own back." Sometimes he thought it was actually all Vance did. "Besides, he's hardly alone, wherever he is, and considering his position, I'd bet his companions know a thing or two about watching their own hides too." He hoped so. He desperately hoped so – or this was going to be a political nightmare he didn't want to be caught _anywhere_ near. Let alone right in the middle of!

"Shelley, I'm sorry, but I need four things from you." Shelley looked at him, tired but expectant. "First, I want you and your kids to go to the office. You'll be safest there and you'll be together." The kids needed her now but he also needed her in the office. So this was the best he could offer for the moment. She nodded. "Second, I need that number. Third, you and your kids go to Abby so she can make a virtual picture of the other two men. They didn't wear masks, did they?" She shook her head. Another sure sign of their intention regarding their hostage's fate. "Four, not a word to anyone about them being after Vance. For now, it was a robbery gone wrong. Not anyone, got it?"

Shelley looked at him uncertainly, but nodded, giving him the number instantly. Getting his phone out, he raised an eyebrow at her. For a change she had a smile for him. "I'm good with numbers." She sure was. Saving the number, he sent her back to her kids while he pressed dial, his fingers crossed. Please, please, please.

It rang five times, six, eight, ten.

Closing his eyes, he ended the call.

_Shit_.

He had expected it, still ... One could hope. Leaning forward, he allowed himself to sag over the wheel, just for a moment. He really, really, _really_ wished Gibbs were here, or at least anywhere else where he wasn't undergoing surgery but where he could at least call him and be able to profit from his expertise and experience.

For now though, he was on his own. Sighing, he leaned back and called McGee. "Tim, I need you to trace a cellphone," he said the moment his junior agent picked up, and rattled off the number Shelley had given him. She wasn't the only one good with numbers.

"It's running. Everything okay?" The worry in McGee's voice was unmistakable. "Did Ziva catch up with you?"

"Yeah, she did." Tony hesitated, not sure if he wanted to address that point now. Usually he'd wait until later, but the way this day was unfolding, he might need Tim to do as he was asked and not what he thought was best at one time. "It was good she was here. Still, McGee, you shouldn't have sidestepped my orders like that."

"What orders? Ziva came back from her assignment and you hadn't left any further orders for her. Nor did you say anything about not sending her or anyone else who was free after you," McGee pointed out.

Tony had to smile, glad Tim couldn't see him. The probie was getting damn good at this. "Just don't make a habit out of it, McGee." Then he changed topic. "We've got another body. We'll bring it back with us, so please notify Ducky. Ziva should send you his prints shortly, so add them to the others already running."

"Okay," Tim said slowly. "Tony, what is going on here?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. So far, his hunch was still just that. Having more plausibility perhaps, but still no hard evidence. "The trace?"

"Got it. I'll send the coordinates to your phone."

"Thanks." Tony ended the call in order to avoid any further questions or arguments over what he had to do next. He doubted the bad guys hadn't gotten to the director yet, still, he had to check it out. After everything that had happened so far, he was even inclined to take backup along. It just couldn't be Ziva. First, someone had to stay here and oversee the processing of the crime scene and wait until Ducky or whoever else he sent came to fetch the body. Most importantly though he didn't want anyone else from NCIS involved for now, not until he had the hard facts and some idea of how to deal with this mess.

Getting out of the car, he waved Wanda over.

* * *

><p>Finally coming out of the house, Ziva blinked against the bright sunlight, scanning the perimeter for her partner. No, boss, she reminded herself. For today, he was the boss, that much was very clear.<p>

It was - strange. She was not used to seeing Tony so serious, for such a long period. He had hardly made any jokes since Gibbs had been shot. Of course, that was a good reason for him to lose that integral part of him, but that just was what was troubling her. No matter how serious the situation, Tony always made a joke. It was as much a part of him as him being the charmer he was. Since the dock, all he seemed to have to say were orders.

No, there was more weighing on her partner than just Gibbs being shot. He was hiding something and she was determined to find out what. Yes, Tony had a few questions to answer, whether he wanted or not. Team leader or not. She would not be put off.

Of course, for that, she needed him to be there. He was not in sight though. A sense of anger and dread seeped into her stomach as she walked further into the street, desperately hoping to see him somewhere.

Her phone rang. Checking the caller ID, she frowned when she saw it was her wayward partner. "Where are you?" she demanded to know, not bothering to hide her anger.

"You finished with the scene?" he refused to answer though.

She gritted her teeth. "Where. Are. You?"

"Ziva." His tone was as demanding as hers had just been.

Gripping her phone to the point she almost broke it, she waited. And waited. And waited. Still, she remained silent. She was Mossad. She was not going to break first.

Eventually, she heard him exhale. "None of your business, Agent David. But I have a squad car with me, just in case. Now answer, unless you want me to assign you to assist Abby for as long as it takes Gibbs to recover."

She did not doubt his words. And while she did not like what he had not said one bit, she would not risk being at Abby's mercy. While she liked the eccentric forensic analyst very much, any long period spent in her lab, having to listen to what she insisted was music and all the time having to wait for a machine to run a test would drive her over a cliff. "Yes, we are finished and the local ME has released the body into our custody."

"Good. Bring everything back to the office. Once you've delivered it to Ducky and Abby, I want you to get on the phone. Call your contacts. Someone must have heard something about this. At one point, they had to be looking for hiring, so concentrate on the usual suspects. Oh, and tell Abby to first run the prints and facials through the immigration database, I got a feeling we'll have the most luck there. The identities'll be fakes, but it's a start." His voice trailed off and she could practically hear him thinking. "Shelley will be working with Abby to do sketches of two more perps. As soon as they're done, put a BOLO out on them."

"Anything else?" she asked, rather sarcastically.

"Yes, you or McGee follow me again, I'll suspend you." She raised an eyebrow. This may concern McGee, but she would not be thwarted by such a technicality. At least, if she were suspended, he could no longer order her around. "_And_ lock you both into Abby's office, letting her do whatever she wants to you, if you even think of trying to break out of there."

Next thing she heard was the dialing tone. Angry, she cursed long and loud in Hebrew. Oh, she could not wait until Gibbs was back. Tony was just insufferable when in charge, liking ordering her and McGee around way too much. It was as it had been during his time as team leader when Gibbs had retired, always ordering them off, to stand back, to go out into the field together while he went out with only that incompetent - and as it turned out untrustworthy - probie from legal as backup. She could not stand it then and she could not stand it now!

Now, it was actually even worse! Being out in the field was obviously very dangerous on this day, it looked to her as if those terrorists were gunning them down one after the other and still Tony would not be bothered to listen to reason!

Her eyes fell on the body that was currently being loaded into the truck and she had to swallow, her throat suddenly feeling tight. The man had been turned away from her. She had not seen him raising his gun to his head, being just at the wrong angle for that. So when the shot had gone off ...

She had not known who had been shot. For agonizing seconds, she had not known, long enough for her mind to play a cruel trick on her, showing her Tony dropping to the ground with his brains shot out instead of the other man. She shivered. Similar to this morning, it had rattled her, shaken her. Only Tony speaking to her had finally chased away the gruesome image.

This had to stop! As much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to become a liability. A danger even, to herself and more importantly, to her team members. To Tony.

Forlornly, she looked back to the house. She wondered if Gibbs ever had a similar experience, for him to set up Rule 12. Maybe, once he was back on his feet, she could ask him for advice, ask how he had conquered such impractical feelings. Of course, then he would know.

Then again, knowing Gibbs, he most likely knew already. Gibbs always knew.

* * *

><p>Music helped her focus. The louder and harder the rhythm was, the better. Today though, not even her best collection could help Abby to focus entirely on her work. Going automatically through every step of each process, her mind was mostly still in the hospital, wondering why Jimmy hadn't called yet. Perhaps it was time to call him again, it was at least fifteen minutes since she had last done so after all. Right, as soon as she finished lifting the print from the rifle in front of her.<p>

If her mind wasn't with her bossman, it was with Tony. Tim had told her about him going out alone and Abby sure would have a word to say to her second favorite agent about that.

As if that wasn't bad enough, he had apparently done it again. Ziva had shown up with the new evidence in a foul mood and most significantly, alone, saying Tony had sneaked off.

It pissed Abby off to no ends. Wasn't it bad enough that Gibbs had been hurt and was fighting for his life, already? And still, knowing all that, knowing how desperately his team needed him now, how much _she_ needed him, there he went and put himself in danger. Alone.

Stupid.

And he was keeping secrets. From her! There was something going on he didn't want to tell anyone, as much she had figured out. Considering that she had just finished constructing with Shelley the pictures of the other two men that had attacked her and her kids, she guessed it had something to do with the director. And that Tony was now out chasing those two.

It worried her. Not just because these men were obviously very dangerous and Tony had only strangers to have his six. No, it worried her that he was after the guys that had hurt Shelley and the kids. In Tony's rule book, there were three things he did not tolerate and would not ever rest until he caught the crazies who dared to break one of those rules: Hurting people he cared about, rape of any kind and hurting children. Those guys had broken two of these rules.

No, she wouldn't want to trade places with those two idiots once Tony caught up with them, not that she doubted for a second that they deserved what was coming to them. But that was just it. Confronting people who broke one of his rules might get Tony so riled up that he might lose it completely. Once she had seen it with her own eyes, him losing it with a monster that had kidnapped, raped and killed the children of female marines. He'd gotten what he deserved, no doubt, but damn, it had happened right here in the Navy Yard and if Gibbs hadn't been here, he would have killed him. Again, nothing that the monster didn't deserve, but it would have ended Tony's career and probably landed him in prison, so yeah, she had reason to worry here.

Well, that had happened years ago, before Tim and Ziva had joined the team, even before Kate. Maybe, Gibbs had taught Tony to handle those cases better now, but she wouldn't bet on it. Probably, he only taught him to handle them smarter. After all, Gibbs wasn't exactly the calm type in such cases either. Also, neither Shelley or the kids had been really hurt, just got shaken good.

Still, she didn't like this. And it hurt that he wasn't thinking of what his recklessness did to her and Tim and Ziva. She hated that he kept secrets from her. Maybe from Tim and Ziva, but from her? She was his best friend after all, wasn't she? And apart from Gibbs and Ducky, she was his oldest friend. He had no business keeping secrets from her!

Major Mass Spec beeped, telling her that he had the results on the tests from the biohazard container. Pushing her anger and worry aside, she went back to work and walked over to check the results. Reading the printout, she blanched.

No. _No_!

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Aww guys, your reviews were wonderful! Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed this one as well. It wasn't that easy for me to write it, but it sure had been fun! More soon!<em>


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The coordinates led Tony and his escort to a house on the outskirts of town. Actually, it was more of a mansion, protected by a high fence and a security gate. Unfortunately, the man at the guard post was nowhere in sight, and the gate was wide open. Tony's jaw was set in what was becoming a permanent clench, his hands gripped the steering wheel as he and the squad car crept up the driveway until they reached the parking lot. Eight cars stood there. High end cars. Looked like this was definitely the place of the party. The cars were empty; he drove past them and pulled up directly by the front door. Also wide open. Checking his gun, he loosened the safety and got out. Good thing he hadn't even bothered to take off the vest. Quietly, Wanda and her partner, Officer Travis, joined him. He saw the tenseness in Wanda's face. She knew as well as he did that something was definitely wrong here.

"Spread out, secure the perimeter." There were not enough of them for his liking, but he was pretty sure that they were late for the party, so that there was no immediate danger. Maybe it was a risk, but he wanted to take it, checking things out now instead of waiting for more backup.

Wanda nodded and told her partner to go right while she disappeared to the left. Tony waited for a moment. No gunfire erupted. So far so good. Turning, he went in – carefully, knowing only too well that there was no one on his six. The foyer was empty, a stair leading up, three doors leading to other rooms and a corridor leading to the back of the house, probably the kitchen or a servants area. Sometimes it came in handy to have grown up in a mansion himself. Most had similar floor plans. The room he was looking for was probably the first to the right, but he wanted to make sure that no surprises were waiting for him.

He moved left, checking out the first door. Living room. Empty. The door further back was a bathroom, also empty. Next he went to the back. As he'd thought, the corridor led to the kitchen. Through the back door, he could see Wanda. He acknowledged her with a nod, getting one back in return. All clear so far. Walking back, he glanced at the closed door, then up the stairs. Damn it, maybe he should have taken Ziva with him after all. Opting for the stairs, he headed up slowly, his eyes constantly on the move, hoping to find no one, but if he was wrong, he hoped to see him before a bullet hit him. Luckily, as he had guessed, he couldn't find anyone up here either. Going back down, he neared the door to the right, wondering why that door was closed while every other one on the way in had been wide open.

He got the answer as soon as he opened it and stepped through. Every window in the large dining room was open, the terrace doors flung wide. With the door open behind him he could feel the air draft picking up, and sure enough, the door swung a few times back and forth before being thrown closed once again. Having that mystery solved, and sure that no perps were lurking in wait for him, he re-holstered his gun and looked around. This room was a stark contrast to the rest of the house where everything had been neat and clean. Whatever had happened, it had sure happened here.

A large dining table stood in the middle of the room. Some of the chairs were overturned. Ten cell phones lay in the middle of the table, with several laptops and tablets scattered over it as well. Various suit jackets and coats were either on the backs of chairs or lying on the ground. Several items were shattered or had been thrown to the floor.

And there was blood. The place wasn't covered in it, but it was in different places all over the room, and enough of it to cause worry that at least some of the people in here had been hurt seriously.

"Perimeter's clear."

Turning away from the scene, he saw that Wanda and her partner were standing in the terrace doorway. Meeting her eyes, seeing her waiting for his next orders, he wondered what to say to her. He didn't know. Clearly, they now had yet another crime scene to process, but he just had no personnel left for that. And while he still needed this to be confirmed, he was sure that the people in here had all been connected to NCIS; military or agency heads. So he couldn't see himself turning this scene over to Metro PD for processing.

He sighed. "Thanks for the help, Wanda, Travis. I got it from here. You can get back to your own work before I have your captain harassing my director about me trying to highjack his best officers."

Wanda frowned. "You sure? We can stay, help out. At least wait with you until your fed buddies show up."

Tony smiled and shook his head. "No need. No one's here and there's no need for you to hang around." He got out his wallet, retrieving a twenty that he gave Wanda. "Told you the next coffee is on me. Go enjoy it."

Wanda looked as if she wanted to protest, but with a huff, she took it. "Don't do something stupid Tony. I better don't get a one-eight-seven. That would seriously piss me off."

Tony grinned. "Aww, you care! Does that husband of yours know that? You just say the word, I'm gonna take him on for the love of such a fair lady."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure he knows. Have to keep him on his toes, don't I?"

"Classy, Wanda," Tony laughed and after exchanging a few more barbs, the two cops left. Turning back to his newest crime scene, he sighed. Laughing had felt good, made him feel more like himself... but he had work to do. Retrieving his equipment from the trunk of his car, he set to work, starting with the photographs. The sketch was quickly done. Not his best work, but they'd have the photographs, if he'd gotten anything wrong. Finally, he started to collect the evidence, taking samples of blood stains, fibers, shards and prints, until all that were left were the various pieces of clothing and the cell phones. Before bagging the jackets he frisked the pockets.

They needed to know who'd been meeting here, and for what. He'd just started with a coat he recognized as Vance's as he heard a car pull up outside. Going still, he listened, putting the coat back over the chair it had been on. A car door closed. Drawing his gun, Tony left the house through the terrace doors. In retrospect, maybe he should have kept Wanda and Travis here. Too late now, though. Quickly but quietly he moved along the wall until he came to the corner, peeking around. A man stood with his back to him. Looked like it was just that one guy. Good. One man he could take on. Besides, judging from the grey hair, this was an old guy on top of that.

Stepping around, he moved a bit closer, before he once again identified himself as NCIS and demanded to see hands in the air. The man had straightened at his voice, his right hand moving towards what was undoubtedly a gun, before slightly relaxing, the hands moving up. Something about the movements of the man seemed familiar. Tony frowned. "Turn around."

The guy did as he was told and Tony was greeted with a smirk. His eyebrows shot up and he relaxed. "New coat? A fancy one at that. No wonder I almost didn't recognize you."

The smirk widened. "The joys of alimony I no longer have to pay. Now DiNutso, either shoot me or put your gun down."

"What? Oh." Realizing that he still had his weapon trained on Fornell, he quickly re-holstered it, narrowing his eyes at the FBI agent instead. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be coordinating the search for our little bomb?"

"I could ask you the same. Got lost on the way to the hospital?" Fornell replied, scanning the area.

"It's clear," Tony told him, watching Gibbs' old – whatever - scanning the perimeter, taking in the faint stress lines in his face, the angry, worried look in his eyes, the tension in his whole body. All way too familiar. He looked back to the house, then over to the limos in the parking lot and finally back to Fornell. "Having trouble reaching your superiors today, Fornell?" he asked resignedly.

Fornell's narrowed eyes shot him a hard glance.

Tony nodded grimly. He'd known it all along. Political nightmare par excellence.

* * *

><p>"Tell me you know what kind of a meeting this was and who participated," Tony said, watching the FBI agent as he looked around the dining room.<p>

"Afraid not. All I know is that both the director and the deputy director had a meeting this morning, leaving only the number for a disposable as a means of emergency contact. When I couldn't reach them to inform them of the situation at hand, I had the cells traced." Fornell looked at the assembled phones on the table.

"Alone."

Fornell turned towards him. "Don't see any other NCIS agents swarming around here, DiNutso."

Tony sighed. No. Fornell probably had the same reasons he had to keep this information to himself for the time being. He walked back to the chair that held Vance's coat and continued his search. No wallet. Searching the next jacket, he again came up with nothing. Out of the corner of the eyes he could see that Fornell was also going through pockets. Not one piece of identification was found. "They must have taken them along with the people. But why?"

Fornell shrugged. "My guess? Either to send them as proof that they have them or to make it easier to identify them once they are found."

"Like in the case of an attack with a biological weapon?" Tony grimaced.

"Maybe, but if this is just about taking them out, they could have done it here. They must need them for something else."

"Or they simply want to kill more than just these people," Tony suggested, not satisfied with such a reasoning. Again, he went through today's events. "No, I think this is mainly a distraction to buy time. By kidnapping our bosses they _think _they'll sure as hell guarantee that we get lost in a turf war and concentrate all our resources on finding and retrieving them while they can execute the original goal: the release of the toxin."

Fornell frowned. "Doesn't make sense. Even with our bosses gone, we know about the biological weapon and even the dumbest terrorist has to know that the search for that will take priority."

"Yeah, but we weren't supposed to find that out. You weren't there, this morning. It's pure luck we survived the attack and could trace them back to the house where we found the evidence of the weapon." Tony excitedly paced around the table to come to a stop in front of the FBI agent. It wasn't much, but it felt good to have at last some inkling of what was going on. "According to their plan, my team would be all dead and them long gone, leaving no evidence behind. All anyone'd know was that they couldn't reach their bosses, eventually finding this place, confirming that we are all in deep shit." He swiveled around, waving at the table. "Who do we have here? The top dogs of FBI. The Secretary of the Navy and the director of NCIS. Two FBI, two Navy. Ten phones. What do you bet that the rest of them are the top shots of our friends? CIA, NSA, Homeland. Every agency who'd be all over a terrorist attack." He knew he was on the right track here, he just knew it. Expectantly, he turned back to Fornell.

"So far it's the most likely theory," the older agent agreed. "But if your theory is correct ..."

"Then we truly _are _in deep shit," Tony finished, the elation of finally having found a clue ebbing away. "An impending terrorist attack while all agencies are disorientated and leaderless."

* * *

><p>Fornell had helped him bag the rest of the evidence. There had been a heated but short discussion about who the evidence went with. Tony wasn't too surprised that he had won. Despite all the resources at the FBI's hand, they had no Abby. She was faster and better than anyone else and Fornell knew that only too well. In turn it would be a FBI team to secure the scene; they were on the way now.<p>

The FBI agent would come back to the Navy Yard with him. That didn't please Tony much, but he recognized the need for it. Fornell had been in this business for ages, he had many contacts. Using MCRT and Fornell's contacts in the other agencies, they could get confirmation on Tony's theory about the other identities of the participants of this meeting. Once confirmed, they needed to inform the White House and frankly, that was one duty he'd gladly leave to Fornell. The news they had was bad enough. It probably had more credibility coming from an experienced man like Fornell than from a Senior Field Agent who bad luck had temporarily promoted to team leader.

And currently the highest ranking agent of the first response team in the office.

Not really wanting to think about what that meant, Tony placed the last of the boxes of evidence in his trunk, turning back to Fornell to tell him they'd meet up in the office when his phone rang. Seeing who the caller was, he held up a finger to Fornell and quickly answered it. "Jimmy, man, tell me you have good news for me."

"I have. Well, I think it's good news, considering the alternative but of course, that is a point of perspective and maybe you have to be in medicine to appreciate the news, which you aren't. Then again, with your degree and not to mention all your personal experience with injuries, you might ..."

"Jimmy!" Tony interrupted his friend's rambling impatiently. "Just give it to me straight."

"Right. So, Agent Gibbs survived the surgery and they have been able to remove the bullet from the chest before it reaching the heart and also repair the muscles in the shoulder. Due to the blood loss and the overall trauma to his body, he remains in critical condition, but the surgeon is cautiously optimistic that we can expect a full recovery." Jimmy briefly stopped in order to take a breath.

"Cautiously optimistic, huh?" It _was_ good news, still, he'd prefer to hear it without that little caveat. Why did they always have to be so damn vague?

"Yes. Well, a lot can only be determined once Agent Gibbs survives the next few hours without incident and regains consciousness. However, I already informed Dr Mallard and we both agree with the prognosis." Jimmy was silent for a moment. "Knowing Gibbs, I think it's safe to say that he'll be okay, Tony."

Tony couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him, feeling the tightness in his chest that had been there since he had seen his boss dropping to the ground finally loosening a bit. "Thanks, Jimmy," he said softly, seriously. "Keep me updated." He ended the call.

That's when he saw it. A reflexion coming from the line of trees marking the border of the property. Squinting his eyes, he could just make out the barrel of a riffle. He couldn't be sure, but judging from the angle he doubted it was trained on him. Whipping around, he saw that Fornell was still standing in the same spot as he had been before Tony wandered off while talking to Jimmy. Standing right in the line of fire. "Fornell! Down!" His heart pounding, he sprinted the few feet back, tackling the older agent. The window behind Fornell shattered. About level with his head. Going for the headshot now, were they?

"Son of a bitch." It was a stupid thing to do, but it was fair to say that Tony forgot to think clearly for a moment. He was simply fed up with being shot at or seeing his friends and colleagues being used for target practice. Before he knew it, he was up and running, going at full speed toward the trees, not hearing Fornell calling him back and cursing, ignoring the sounds of more shots being fired. His eyes and mind were set on his target and that was it.

The shooter must have recognized the danger coming. Shortly before Tony reached the line of trees, he saw a blond man jumping from a tree onto the ground, a rifle slung over his back, turning to run away. Tony pushed forward with even more determination. One man had already escaped him, another had shot himself rather than be arrested. This one was not getting away!

Drawing close enough for a tackle, Tony took a leap, flying against the guys back. They tumbled to the ground, rolling, coming to a stop with Tony on top. Not for long. The guy twisted beneath him, pushed him back with surprising force, enough for the guy to be able to jump back onto his feet with a speed and ease that told Tony that his adversary was not unfamiliar with hand to hand combat. Fine with him. He'd been looking forward to taking a swing at the bastards since seeing Gibbs being shot down. Getting back onto his feet, he had perhaps three seconds before the blond attacked, with a knife in his right hand. Not enough time for Tony to go for his own knife, so he could only try to disarm him. He blocked the right arm coming for him, twisting it under his armpit before swiveling around and ramming his elbow into the blond's face. The guy countered with a blow to his side. Ignoring it, Tony proceeded to put pressure onto the hand holding the knife, pressing it down until the grip loosened and the knife fell into the grass. Another blow hit his back, knocking the breath out of him. Dancing back, he blocked the next one, once again taking hold of the arm, using it to draw the guy close enough for him to give a vicious kick into the back of the knee, doubling it with another against the calf. With satisfaction he heard the bone break, followed by an anguished yell, and he felt the guy crashing down to the ground. Quickly kicking away the knife, he reached for his cuffs, wanting the bastard's hands bound as soon as possible. They needed someone to interrogate, not another body.

But at that moment, what felt like a sledgehammer slammed against his chest, knocking him a few feet backwards, flat onto his back.

_Owwww._

Trying to get air back into his lungs and breathe through the pain, he blinked rapidly, trying to grasp what was going on. He had been shot, that much was obvious. And while it hurt like a bitch, it wasn't the agonizing pain of a bullet tearing through him, so the vest had to have caught it. His vision cleared and he found himself able to move his head.

Beside the blond, another man stood, a big, badass Sig Sauer pointed at him, his head this time. Tony tried to move, knowing he wouldn't be fast enough. Had to give it a shot anyway though. He was at peace with dying on the job, always knew it was a possibility, but he had sworn to himself a long time ago that he would never go without a fight.

The shot rang out.

TBC

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Sorry this took a bit longer. I had a few technical problems. But they are hopefully resolved now and I'm back writing. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I hope you liked this one as well, despite the cliffy. Or perhaps because of it? Let me know. And more soon! Can't leave you hanging like this for long, can I?<em>


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Tony waited for the final, inevitable darkness to claim him. When it didn't come, he blinked, turning his head back towards his would be executioner. He was dead, lying beside his blond partner who stared at his shot friend with shock and rage. Behind them, Fornell stood, his arms still outstretched holding his service piece .

Relieved, Tony exhaled. Fornell would most likely never again let him forget that he had saved his life, but Tony thought he could live with that. Yep, he could definitely live with that.

Grimacing, Tony pushed himself upwards, unable to stop a groan from escaping him. Shit, that hurt. Trying not to breathe too deeply, he stopped once he was sitting more or less upright. He needed a moment before he could tackle the standing up and remaining on his feet part. Looking back to Fornell, who came carefully closer, he caught sight of the blond going for the gun his dead partner still had in his limp hand. Grinding his teeth, Tony fumbled for his own gun. Gripping it, he brought it up and fired.

The blond howled as the bullet pierced his hand, the Sig Sauer knocked out of it by the impact.

"Secure him, Fornell," Tony rasped. "We need him alive and he may not be above suicide. One already killed himself rather than be arrested this morning." He kept his gun trained on the blond. It wavered a bit, the position straining his bruised chest, but he managed to keep it up until Fornell had secured the guy. Only then did he allow his arm to relax. Exhausted, he forgot about standing up and instead eased himself back down, just breathing.

Above him, Fornell's disgruntled face appeared, frowning down at him. "You okay?"

"Peachy," was Tony's sarcastic reply.

The FBI agent raised an eyebrow. "Well, when you're done sleeping on the job, how about we get on with it?"

It was so much like something Gibbs would have said. Tony hated him for that, but he said nothing because in the end, Fornell was right. If anything, it only reminded him painfully that Gibbs wasn't here, and wouldn't be anytime soon, and therefore _he_ had to be the strong, indestructible one for the time being. Right. Bracing himself, he rolled to the side, pushing himself up onto his elbow. Before he could struggle up further, hands gripped him under the armpits and he was hauled back onto his feet, the hands remaining on his back until he was sure that his knees didn't give out. He didn't protest, didn't shrug it off, not at first, not until he pushed the pain back and back, into a deep part of his mind, slamming an iron door shut on it. Only then did he straighten and step away from the support Fornell offered. He nodded shortly. "Thanks."

The FBI agent had no problem understanding the depth of that one single word and just shrugged. "I'd say we're even. Nice tackle."

Tony offered him a crooked smile. "Hey, I was going to go pro once. I can tackle with the best of them."

* * *

><p>Tim found it hard to concentrate on the searches he was once again running as his eyes alternated between the digital clock on his screen and the gallery, apparently not able to stop their distracted straying. At least he wasn't the only one. More than once he had caught Ziva glancing upwards with a frown, mostly between the phone calls she had been ordered to place to her contacts. And it wasn't just them. Several other agents threw nervous and confused glances around and it seemed to be impossible for anyone walking past to not look curiously up to the gallery.<p>

That was ever since Tony had come back an hour ago, Fornell at his heels, and with another body for Ducky and a suspect being escorted to the interrogation room. Tony had briskly ordered someone to call Ducky so he could take a look at the hole in the suspect's hand, and then had vanished up the stairs into the director's office, Fornell right behind him. Five minutes later Tim, Ziva and several other agents had received a call from Tony for an update. Tim had given the little he had found straight, not even wondering about it until after he had been dismissed, the dial tone ringing in his ears.

There had just been something in Tony's voice that had demanded no nonsense responses, very much like Gibbs but still not the same. He hadn't seen this side of Tony for a long time, so long that he had almost forgot how intense the Senior Field Agent could get occasionally. But he did remember that this side only showed up when things truly had gone far beyond FUBAR. And it didn't sit right with him at all, the anticipation of another big shoe being dropped almost palpable on his tongue. The bad taste in his mouth had only worsened when a half an hour ago more suits with visitor badges and grim faces had arrived, being directed straight up the stairs to Vance's office; Trent Kort was one of them.

Tony had yet to re-emerge from the office and Tim actually hoped he was going to come back to his desk soon. It was bad enough that Gibbs wasn't at _his_ desk, to have Tony absent too was just wrong. They needed him here, helping them focus, being himself, finding an errant clue, leading them. Not up there, probably bumping heads with the director, Fornell, Kort and whoever else was crammed in Vance's office.

He noticed that every eye in the room was turned upwards and he quickly swiveled around in his chair to look up too, just in time to see Tony's back disappearing into MTAC, Fornell, Kort and two other people following him in. The door closed. Turning away, he looked over at Ziva, her eyes still on the closed door. "What do you think is going on up there?"

She grimaced. "Nothing good."

"D'you get the feeling too, that this is about more than the biological weapon?" Tim had thought this for a while, not wanting to say it out loud though, but he had a feeling that ignoring it any longer was stupid. Something was going on, and he was tired of being left in the dark.

"Have you seen the director today? Spoken to him?" Ziva asked back, turning towards him.

"No." And Tim didn't need Ziva to tell him that this was strange. Add to that the hostage situation with Shelley and Tony's secretive behavior, it didn't take a genius to figure just what this other thing going on was about. "Do you think they killed him?"

God, he hoped not. He was probably the only one on the team who liked Vance as the director, but now certainly was not the time for them to _lose_ their director as well. Even Tony would have to agree with that.

"I do not know. But if something has happened to Vance, then who is Tony reporting to? And who is directing us?"

Tim had no answer for Ziva; her direct questions had hit him hard. Sure, there were times he wished he had Tony's job. Glancing up, he felt sorry for Tony. No way did he want to be in his shoes right now.

* * *

><p>If Tony's theory was right that the kidnapping of all the important heads in national security agencies was to unsettle the said agencies, then that plan was working just fine. From the second the agents of the other agencies had arrived - CIA, NSA and Homeland as Tony had assumed - the turf war had begun and was still raging on, even in front of their bosses' bosses. Exasperated, Tony rubbed the point between his eyes in an effort to hold himself and the building headache back.<p>

God, he hated politics. Give him a nest of rapists, murderers and terrorists, controlled by psychopaths, anytime!

What the hell was so difficult to understand here? Bio weapon on the loose, their bosses kidnapped. Now was not the time to discuss strategies or fight over jurisdiction. Now was the time to work, to act, not sit around on their pompous asses and do nothing but exchange niceties!

But he was just the Senior Field Agent with the bad luck to be the one in charge for the moment. He was by far the lowest ranking person in the room and that was just fine with him. He was a field guy, not a desk guy, never had been. If he had wanted to push papers around all the time and have to crawl into some bloated guy's ass on a regular basis he would have made that business major his dad wanted him to do and joined the family business all those years ago.

Informing the Under Secretary of the Navy about the situation in _his_ Navy Yard had already given him a headache. It had been the first thing he did once he got back to the office. After all, word needed to be sent out that any orders coming from the SecNav or the director of NCIS had to be ignored. While he didn't believe that was the reason they had been taken, it was still a possibility that needed to be considered and anticipated.

That headache had only worsened when the representative of the CIA had turned out to be Trent Kort. Of course it had to be that asshole. Unfortunately, this time, he had to be at least somewhat polite to the guy in order to avoid a confrontation and reach cooperation. Kort knew that only too well and boy, did he milk it, never easing up on the mean little jabs at him. So far Tony had held his temper in check, but a man could only take so much.

Linda Farington from Homeland and Walther Larn from NSA completed the circus. From what he gathered Larn was a well experienced man, but he had been too long behind a desk for Tony's liking, more concerned about pleasing the superiors than do the job right; while Farrington hadn't been in her position long enough, and might be too eager to prove herself. This morning's news had blindsided them, Tony thought, and now they tried to cope by being over confident and way too touchy and defensive. They weren't thinking far enough. Probably never heard of Rule 15, and boy, if there was ever a time to work as a team, it was sure as hell now.

So here they were in MTAC, the four of them bickering in front of the Chief of Staff, the Attorney General and the Secretary of Defense who watched over the video feed. Great. Just fucking great.

It looked as if the final turf war for the lead was between FBI and CIA. He sincerely hoped it was going to be FBI. All things considered he could barely tolerate following Fornell, but while he wasn't his biggest fan, he knew Fornell at least was a real agent. And Gibbs trusted him, and was willing to team up with him, and they worked well together.

But to have to follow Trent Kort's lead ... Not gonna happen. Hopefully without him having to quit.

Of course, though, Kort did everything he could in order to secure himself the lead. "With all due respect, Sirs, the CIA clearly has the best means to deal with this situation. We have the best net of informants to deduce who is behind this attack and our experience in dealing with this sort of threat surely surpasses that of my colleagues. Nothing against them, but while they usually are only concerned about single cases ..."

Enough was enough. "Bullshit," Tony sneered, his arms falling down; the glare he gave Kort would have made Gibbs weep with pride. If Gibbs were to do such a mundane thing as to shed a tear.

"Special Agent DiNozzo," the Under Secretary, who was lurking behind the three powerful men hissed, clearly displeased.

"Yes, DiNozzo, why don't you stay back and let the professionals talk here," Kort added sweetly with that derisive smirk of his that Tony just itched to blow away with a solid right hook.

"You have something to add, young man?" SecDef asked with a frown, his dark eyes piercing even through the video feed.

Tony swallowed, his respect for the man growing and at the same time berating himself for have opened his big mouth. He didn't want any attention right now. On the other hand, he just couldn't let the likes of Trent Kort bad mouth the good work his people had delivered while being in an extremely difficult position. Single cases, my ass. Straightening, he stepped forward and met the piercing eyes of his SecDef straight on.

"As a matter of fact, Sir, yes, I have. While I have the utmost respect for the work of our sister agencies," wow, he even managed to say that without sarcasm, "I'd like to point out that it has been NCIS that discovered the impending attack, NCIS that first grew aware of the abduction of our superiors, NCIS that has so far gathered all the evidence, NCIS that has already brought down five of the terrorists, and it is also NCIS that has the only suspect in custody as we speak."

He briefly took the the time to give Kort a pointed glare, before turning back to SecDef. "But I'm not pointing this out in order to receive credit. I don't care who gets credit afterwards. That's one thing our directors can thrash out among themselves once they're safely back at their desks. For now though we have work to do and we have to act fast. And even my esteemed colleagues," okay, this time he couldn't hold back the sarcasm entirely, Tony thought with an internal shrug, "have to concede that it's NCIS that's already the most involved in the investigation, and has the best chance of tracing and stopping this attack before it's too late. With all due respect, we don't have the time to stand around here and fight over jurisdiction. We should be out there working our asses off. And most of all, we need to be working together here. Sir," he added as an afterthought, not needing the horrified look the Under Secretary was giving him to know he had been out of line. Honestly though, they could demote or fire him all they want, once this was over.

"I see," was the only, rather cryptic response SecDef offered before he excused himself and his colleagues for a moment, the big screens going black as they no doubt discussed their course of action. Tony just hoped it actually involved action.

"You've been with Gibbs for too long, DiNutso."

Tony turned his head to see Fornell standing right beside him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he challenged.

But Fornell just smiled. Kort though was _very_ happy to answer him. "It means just like your boss, you do not know what your place is."

Tony visualized decking the smug bastard, his fingers flexing in anticipation. But instead, he forced his fingers to relax and his breathing to slow down. "I'd be careful what you say in here, Kort. The boss has many friends, and the rest respect him at least. None of them would take it kindly if they heard you badmouthing an agent who was shot just this morning in the line of duty."

Kort's gaze narrowed, but luckily for him and Tony, before he could say anything the video feed came in once again, the expression on the powerful men's faces grim. "Special Agent DiNozzo," SecDef spoke up.

Breaking his glare off with Kort, Tony turned to face the curt, sturdy man. "Yes, Sir."

"You are appointed director of NCIS ad interim, effective immediately, until either Director Vance returns or we can find a more permanent replacement. We have also agreed that for now, the lead in this investigation stays with NCIS. I expect an hourly update and to be briefed before any major decisions are made, is that understood?" SecDef demanded, his gaze unyielding.

Tony might have even shuddered under it, if he hadn't been too dazed by the first part of his orders. He blinked, suddenly feeling slightly nauseous. "Me?" His voice sounded unnatural high in his ears. "Sir, that must be a mistake. I'm a field agent, not ... I mean, I'm sure any of our remaining team leaders could step in and take over temporarily."

If anything, the piercing glare only intensified. "Special Agent DiNozzo, do I understand correctly that all your agency's achievements in this affair so far have been made under your command?"

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "Well yeah, but mostly it was a team effort, Sir. I just did my job, that doesn't mean I'm fit to lead the agency," he answered bluntly. They couldn't burden him with all that responsibility! The responsibility of a team lead was more than enough to take on, thank you very much. Not to mention that his place was out in the field, on his team's six, not behind a fucking desk!

SecDef allowed a small smile to lift the corners of his mouth. "In that case you won't have a problem with keeping on doing your job and working as a team with the other agencies." The smile evaporated as he looked at all the other representatives gathered in MTAC. "That is an order. Whatever differences you have, bury them or your directors, once they are safely returned, will be hearing from me." He gave his technician a sign and once again, the video stream was cut off, leaving deafening silence behind.

With a scowl, Tony shook his head. Damn it, why hadn't he just kept his big mouth shut?

* * *

><p>Standing on the mezzanine, Fornell watched Gibbs' boy closely. After the shock of being temporarily promoted to director and being dumped with the lead, the boy had looked downright depressed. It had been just for a moment, probably no-one else had even seen it as DiNozzo had quickly pulled himself together, an unreadable mask slamming down over his face, one of confidence and composure. Fornell didn't know how the agent could change colours as fast as a chameleon, but it had always disturbed him. Of course, it made him an excellent undercover agent and also, a surprisingly good team leader, as he had discovered during Gibbs' little hiatus in Mexico.<p>

Maybe it would also make him a good director, but Fornell wasn't so sure about that. In the end, just like his mentor, DiNozzo was the kind of man who always took action, doing what was necessary and way above that. But while he was frighteningly good with other people, he also had a short fuse and shared his boss' dislike of paper pushers. Fornell doubted he had the patience and restraint to do the job of the director. Not to mention that he didn't feel too confident to have to follow a man who was clearly his junior and had perhaps half the experience he had.

Then again... SecDef had been right in pointing out that under DiNozzo's command, his sister agency had achieved impressive results so far, and that under truly unusual circumstances. And he hadn't even listed all the lives Gibbs' boy had managed to save on top of that. He had discreetly asked a bit around after a comment the secretary had made to DiNozzo when they had arrived and had been amazed to hear that DiNozzo had not only saved his life, but also that of Gibbs and most likely his entire team, the secretary and her two kids.

So maybe, SecDef had made just the right decision. Surely though, there would be several people who did not agree and unfortunately, DiNozzo was at the top of that list. Really though, Fornell wouldn't have expected anything else from the young agent. Right now he stood at the top of the stairs, looking down on the gathered NCIS personnel, shifting nervously. His first order had been for them all to gather on the floor within ten minutes. Those ten minutes were up now, but it didn't look as if DiNozzo was ready yet to announce his temporary promotion. He looked pretty lost, standing here on the elevated level, utterly reluctant to shift power as he knew it.

Fornell had to smile when suddenly, DiNozzo's back straightened and he moved down the stairs to the mid-level, but it disappeared when he saw the agent's hand move unconsciously to rub at his chest. It was only for a moment, by the time DiNozzo had reached the second flight, the hand was gone and nothing in his face or posture gave away that the man had to be in quite a bit of pain. Having been shot in the vest himself a number of times, Fornell knew _exactly_ how much it hurt. And it had been a big caliber slug at way too close range. The boy was lucky the bullet hadn't penetrated the vest. Yet, if he hadn't witnessed it with his own eyes, he would never have guessed that the agent felt any pain at all. Hell, he had watched how somehow, DiNozzo had pushed the pain back and stored it away.

It kind of worried him. Gibbs had mentioned something once, a few years back, something about having to watch DiNozzo like a hawk the moment there was the possibility that the boy had been injured. Fornell frowned, trying to remember the exact words. _'Idiot wouldn't admit to being hurt if his guts were hanging out.'_ Back then he had thought it was a joke. Now he wasn't so sure anymore.

He was brought out of his thoughts by DiNozzo speaking. "Thanks for coming, everyone. I know this morning hadn't been easy. Our own got hurt and our own are being targeted – by terrorists we can be sure plan to hurt many more innocent people. You all know that; you're doing your best and beyond to stop it from happening. The work you've done so far is good. But we still have to find and extinguish this cell and I'm afraid they're not going to make it any easier." He paused, looking around, before calmly continuing. "I'm sorry to have to inform you that Director Vance, along with SecNav and the directors of FBI, CIA, NSA and Homeland have been kidnapped this morning, we think by the same terrorists."

DiNozzo stopped again for this shocking information to sink in. Fornell watched as confusion, shock and anger flashed over most faces to finally settle in grim resolution. But he could also see them glancing between themselves, especially the other team leaders. No doubt they were wondering who was going to call the shots now. Well, they were in for a surprise, Fornell thought and kept his vigil, not wanting to miss their reaction once DiNozzo told them about his promotion.

"This is disturbing news. Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of time to dwell on it. Speed's of the essence here, both about the impending attack and for our missing superiors. We've informed the White House of the situation and it was decided that our agencies should join our resources and fight this threat together." DiNozzo turned towards the mezzanine. "These are our contacts: Walther Lorn from NSA, Linda Farrington from Homeland, Trent Kort from CIA – and you should all know Tobias Fornell from FBI. The five of us will be your command base. Every decision comes and goes through us." DiNozzo turned back to his people and Fornell was surprised at the unyielding strength and command he suddenly oozed. "It was also decided that the lead stays with us. With me to be exact." The young agent looked at every of the other team leaders. "Effective immediately, I've been appointed director ad interim."

More than one gasp or cry of surprise was heard around the floor, and even more doubtful or incredulous looks were exchanged. A lot were frowning. But, as Fornell noticed, there were also those who didn't seem to be surprised at all, Dr Mallard and Ms Sciuto the most obvious among them. As for DiNozzo, he stood calmly on the mid-level, showing no sign that the almost palpable doubt in the room was getting to him even slightly.

Once things quietened down, DiNozzo spoke up again. "I know this is a surprise for everyone; but the decision is made. Should anyone have a problem with me calling the shots, he or she is welcome to come to me. I'll be in the director's office." Again he looked at the other team leaders as he spoke. "You'll have to be quick though, as in half an hour we are going to have a briefing in the conference room. All team leaders, Dr Mallard, Ms Sciuto and the Agents McGee and David are expected to attend in order to present their results so far. Now get back to work."

DiNozzo didn't wait for further reactions to his little speech as he turned to walk back up the stairs, straight past Fornell and the other representatives to his new office, somehow managing not to make it look like running but a calm, unworried and decisive walk.

Yeah, Gibbs' boy sure knew the art of slipping into any role he wanted or needed to. Or maybe it wasn't a role at all and the boy was just a natural leader. Fornell wasn't sure what it was and it worried him.

"We are so screwed," Kort muttered beside him, the disgust evident in his voice. "At least, once this blows over, DiNozzo's career will be over and none of us will ever have to deal with the incompetent idiot again."

Fornell felt himself bristle, much to his own surprise. He turned a cold look at the CIA agent. While he hadn't had much to do with him so far, he had heard enough from Gibbs to dislike him already and now that he was getting to know him better, his opinion of the fellow worsened with every word out of his spiteful mouth. "So tell me again, Kort, who's got all the results so far?" he asked with a pointed glare. "If I were you, I'd be careful what you say or it will be your career on the line. Now excuse me, I need to get an update from my team. I suggest you do the same."

* * *

><p>Exhausted, Tony leaned back in Vance's chair. As anticipated, the team leaders had come by, not losing any time. Owen Heyes had been first and had been spitting mad. Not that Tony could hold it against him. Heyes was the most seasoned agent they had, with only a few years left until his pension. Under normal circumstances, it should have been Heyes in this chair now, not DiNozzo who was twenty years his junior and not even a full team leader yet. Still, Tony couldn't be but be glad that he wasn't. Heyes was okay, but he wasn't the best or the most driven, always too careful, too slow, too prudent for Tony's liking. Then again, compared to Gibbs pretty much anyone was too slow for Tony's liking.<p>

In the end, Heyes only had vented, assuring him that he was going to put in a complaint, but, and that was the only thing Tony truly cared about, it was also clear that he didn't have the balls to go against orders from SecDef and not cooperate. Tony found out that pointing out that SecDef himself had appointed him quenched most angry protests pretty fast. So he used it, even though he was no big fan of name dropping, never had been, never would be.

Then again, Heyes had been the worst of them, mostly, the team leaders only came by to test the waters. Some, like Ida Lopez, their newest team leader, had even openly congratulated him. The only other one he was worried about was Charles Keller. He was good, probably the best they had after Gibbs, which was good. Also, he was ambitious, which wasn't so good. Most of all though, there was no love lost between Keller and him, never had been, and that was just downright unfortunate. Not that Keller had let on on his doubts, au contraire, he had been polite and calmly assured Tony of his help and cooperation.

He didn't have to show his contempt. They went back a long time, to their days at FLETC. Back then, Keller had been dutifully taking each and every one of his classes, having been a Navy Seal until an ear infection had forced him to change his career. Tony could have related to that only too well, but he never had a chance for that. He had come to FLETC to take some mandatory courses, but with his past as a policeman and thanks to Gibbs and Morrow pulling some strings, he didn't have to go through the complete training. That already didn't sit right with Keller and it didn't help that Tony came and beat some of the records Keller had just managed to set. Then they had been both assigned to Gibbs' team; Tony by choice, Keller by orders. Needless to say that hadn't worked out well.

First Gibbs promoted Tony promptly to Senior Field Agent, not a position Keller felt he'd earned, then the Navy man and Gibbs continually clashed. Marines and Seals. Not a good idea to put them together, let alone in the same team. So after three months of hell, Gibbs threw him off his team. Keller never forgave Tony for that; he was, in his opinion, partly responsible for his failure.

Now here they were again, Keller a team leader for a few years now, having excellent records, and yet Tony was once again put right in front of his nose instead of him being chosen himself. Not only that, with the whole EJ fiasco, everyone knew now also that Tony had been offered the Rota team years before Keller got his own team. Tony sighed. He would definitely need to watch his back around him and be extra sure of any orders he gave Keller.

Finally, the last of the team leaders had left, leaving him only with a few minutes before it was time for the briefing. Closing his eyes, Tony breathed deeply, glad to be finally alone, even if it was in Vance's office. Not a room he particularly liked. Why should he, almost always only bad things had ever been delivered to him in this office. It was here that he got the Grenouille op, along with the orders to lie to Gibbs about it and be downgraded to a fucking whore, all for the sake of the mission. It was here that years later, he again got orders for another undercover op, again being forced to lie to Gibbs about it. But the winner of bad memories in this office was definitely when he got kicked off of Gibbs' team and was deployed as Agent Afloat.

Yet, right now he was glad to be here, desperately needing the solitude of this office.

"Tony, Tony, Tony!"

With a snap he jerked up, wincing as the sudden movement strained his sore torso. Fortunately, Abby was being too much Abby to notice his wince as she whirled towards him for a fierce hug. "I can't believe you're our director now! That is so cool! Finally someone in this office who understands. Well, you know what I mean. Morrow was really good, but he was just so old. And Jenny!" She let go of him and rounded the desk, starting to pace in front of it. "I loved her, and I thought she understood it too, seeing as she was Gibbs' old partner, but then she used you for her personal vendetta and I'm still not sure if she didn't kill the Frog, so there. And Vance!" she scowled. "He broke up the team and sent you so far away! I'll never forgive him for that. Just think about what could have happened to you! Okay, he came to his senses finally and he learned, started to treat you better, still, I don't think you're his favorite person and you know I could never really like someone who doesn't love you. Of course I'm worried about him being kidnapped, that is awful. I'll find him though, I'll start with the evidence from the mansion right after the briefing."

"Thanks, Abby, I know you will," Tony interrupted. Normally he'd stand up to go hug her, but he doubted he could get up without her noticing the pain standing up was likely to cause him. Abby didn't need to have to worry about yet another one of her people. Not that there was anything to worry about. He was fine, just a bit bruised. "I'm glad at least someone's happy that I'm sitting in this chair."

"Oh, you will be so good! But listen, Tony, about the briefing, I think I know now ..."

"Abs," Tony interrupted her again. "This concerns the case, yeah?" She nodded. "Then wait until the briefing to tell me and everyone else. Please don't get me wrong, but I really need a few minutes alone. To get my head wrapped around everything, you know?"

She frowned. "Sure, Tony, but you really want to know this. It's ..."

"It can wait the five minutes until the briefing starts. Please?" he begged, allowing some of the exhaustion he felt to show on his face. It worked, more or less.

She frowned, and worried at her lip. "Okay, Tony. But I think you'll regret it."

Maybe, but he really needed her to leave now, so he could gather his thoughts, emotions and strength, get up and go face the sharks. So he just shrugged, giving her a crooked, apologetic smile.

She rounded the desk and kissed his cheek. "You know, you don't have to worry. You'll be the best director we ever had."

She left before Tony found his voice to say something to that vote of confidence. It warmed his heart, but it also frightened him more than anything. He just hoped he could live up to her expectations.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for coming," Tony addressed the assembled people. The conference room felt a bit crammed up and pretty hostile. But maybe, he was just imagining things. Not an hour in the job, and already he'd started feeling paranoid. Great. He pushed his dark thoughts away. "Let's not lose anymore time. Ms Sciuto, I believe you have some results for us?"<p>

She nodded. "Yes, I was able to identify the toxin the biological weapon most likely contains."

Tony felt a rush. Good. Knowing the toxin would help them prepare for the attack, narrow down the possible targets and perhaps most importantly, they now had a new lead to follow. Most toxins weren't so easy to come by. Knowing which one it was could help them to find the ones who had it. Then he saw the sad and frightened expression in Abby's eyes. His gut churned and suddenly he wished, he had taken the time to listen to her.

Abby looked only at him as she continued, softly, "Y. pestis."

TBC

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Sorry, it took me a bit longer to get this one out. Hope you enjoyed it though. Some parts weren't that easy, but boy, I had fun writing this! Thanks to everyone who reviewed or put in an alert or favorite story. You guys rock! More soon!<em>


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Of course it is," Tony muttered to himself, looking down at his feet. With the day they'd had so far he should have known that it was going to be one of his worst nightmares coming back to haunt him. "God, I hate sequels. Or would this be a remake? Nope, definitely a sequel." He looked back up again, only to see most people in the room looking at him as if he had finally lost all his marbles.

Right. Not the stress reliever SFA anymore but the serious director everyone looked to for reassurance and leadership. Ugh. He was already getting really tired of this role. Reining in his thoughts, he looked back at Abby, giving her a small smile to reassure her that it was okay. "Could you identify the strain yet?"

"No, there wasn't enough for further tests," Abby answered reluctantly.

Tony frowned. "Is there a risk of exposure?"

"No, no risk; there was no moisture to keep the bacteria alive."

Tony couldn't hold back a relieved sigh. Looking around he saw mostly only shocked expressions. A few though looked as if they weren't as familiar with the Latin term as the NCIS personnel were. "Yersina Pestis is Latin for the plague. Pneumonic plague to be exact. Dr Mallard, would you please describe the symptoms?"

While Ducky gravely complied, Tony only half listened. He _knew_ the symptoms from experience, hell, you could say he was an expert on the plague! Contrary to what most believed, he was no fool. Once back on his feet he had researched anything there was to know about it and the consequences of surviving it. He had to know his limitations, where he could become a liability or even a threat to his team after all. Though, as he noticed, there was one thing he would have to ask Ducky; but that would have to wait until later. Instead, he thought about the implications of this. The plague wasn't exactly the best toxin to work with. It needed a lot to be kept alive long enough and unless it was genetically altered it was treatable. Okay, time was of the essence for the chance of successful treatment, but still he'd have expected something more dangerous. Then again, the pneumonic plague was highly contagious and led to death within two to five days if untreated. If the terrorists managed to infect enough people, it would have catastrophic consequences, a pandemic like they hadn't seen since the Spanish influenza. Or the middle ages. Especially if they used an altered strain to make it more resilient.

Ducky finished. Tony thanked him and turned back to Abby. "What else have you got for us, Miss Sciuto?"

There was a lot for just half a day. She had matched the bullets to the different weapons collected, confirmed that Tom had been the one who had shot Gibbs and matched the fingerprints she had found so far to the bodies, the suspect in custody, Tom and four so far unidentified persons. Next was Ducky, who hadn't as much to report. He confirmed the cause of deaths, ages and races. Samples had been taken to do a geographic profile. None of the bodies showed signs of a sickness. Stomach contents and blood sampled had yet to be analyzed. He didn't have much to go on for a psychological profile and couldn't offer more than they already knew: that they were facing some very dangerous and ruthless people who didn't hesitate to go to extremes in order to finish their mission or advance their cause. Whatever that may be.

Once Ducky was finished, Tony asked McGee to bring up his search results. The video screen was filled with pictures of the dead bodies in autopsy, along with one of their suspect in custody and, to his relief, also one of Tom. Good, so he could at least scratch his appointment with the sketch artist off his seemingly never ending list of things to do.

"We found matches for the prints from the immigration data net. So far we only have what we assume are their aliases but it's a start. From the attack at the old dock this morning we have Geri and Paul Cullum, deceased, married, from the UK, John Jackson, deceased, single, from South Korea, Tom Turner, thirty-six, single, Australian, current location unknown." McGee was pointing with a laser at each picture while he named them. "Justin King, committed suicide after taking our director's secretary and her children hostage, single, from Canada. Michael Jones, deceased, married, from Tokyo, was found on site where our directors had been kidnapped, along with Dean Armstrong, twenty-six, single, from Tokyo, currently in our custody. We've no information on real identities yet, but as Dr Mallard says, it's most likely that these people do indeed come from different countries all over the world."

Tony cocked his head. "These countries are all part of the visa waiver program, aren't they?"

"Makes sense. They don't need a visa to come into the US and are only basically checked at border controls," Lorn chipped in. He frowned. "But they'd need a biometric passport for that. So either they are legit or it is a hell of a forgery we haven't come across yet."

"And if they're actually from the countries they claim to be, why?" Farrington asked. "We have good relations with each of them. Why should any of them have a reason to harm us?"

"Just because they're from safe countries doesn't mean they can't be fanatics or strive to destroy us. Let's not forget that even Americans sometimes try to bring us down," Kort sneered, staring at Tony with challenge in his eyes. "We should concentrate on finding them, breaking Armstrong and getting him to tell us all we need to know."

Tony kept his irritation at bay. "He's prepared to die, he won't be broken easily."

"Not if you continue to pamper him, he won't. But if you don't have the stomach to interrogate him properly, I'll get him to talk."

Ducky looked at the CIA agent, aghast. "Torture seldom leads to valuable results, Agent Kort. And if you think I will stand by and let you ..."

"Fornell and I will conduct the interrogation, Ducky, no need to worry," Tony interrupted the agitated doctor, throwing Kort a warning glare. "But in order to get results we need to know as much as we can. Some real names would be a good start for now." He waved at the screen that still displayed their suspects pictures and aliases. "We have their fingerprints. Run them through Interpol and the police databases of the countries they claim to come from first. If you get no hits, go through every other database you can think of." He glanced at Lorn and Kort. "I'm sure you have some suggestions for that. Actually, why don't you start the searches already, that will give us some time."

"What makes you so sure they're aliases?" Heyes piped up. "Like Agent Lorn pointed out, biometric passports are almost impossible to forge. Shouldn't we start with the background we can find on these names first?"

It was a legitimate question but Tony would have preferred for it not to have come from one of his team leaders, clearly already questioning him in front of everyone. "Oh, they're aliases, I'm sure of it. First, they're not stupid and using their real names would be extremely stupid..." he began with more confidence than he felt. Truth was, it was mostly his gut that was telling him that these were all aliases. Too bad his gut carried little weight amongst these people. But he just knew it. There was something nagging at him whenever he saw or heard those names, like when you see an actor in a show or movie and just _know _you know him from somewhere but can't pinpoint it... or like a stupid song, its refrain or melody you can't get out of your mind, playing over and over again, driving you crazy ...

Holy shit! That was it! How the hell hadn't he seen that before? Excited, he couldn't hold back his grin. "Say, say, say, what a Wonderful World, with Mambo Italiano, Chico Latinos, and Boyfriend. Up, everyone, the Thrill Is Gone, Goldeneye is the solution."

Oh, the looks he got. He definitely had to have lost all his marbles this time. "DiNozzo, are you sure you have not suffered a head injury recently? Maybe you should let Dr Mallard take a closer look at you," Farrington suggested, her face showing anything else than concern though.

Tony met her eyes for a brief and cold stare down before he looked around. "Oh, I'm sure. Come on, anyone? Abby?"

Abby frowned at him, then looked back at the names on the screen. He could see the exact moment it dawned on her. "God, of course! Tony, you are a genius!"

Tony nodded, but before he could reply, Fornell let out a warning "DiNutso!". Right. Director, not SFA. Losing the goofiness, he walked over to the screen and pointed at Tom Turner and Michael Jones. "Rockstars, people. Their aliases are based on Rockstars. Here we have Tom Jones, Tina Turner and Michael Jackson." He waved at the Cullums and John. "John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Jamie Cullum, Geri Halliwell." Finally his hand moved to Justin King and Dean Armstrong. "And last but not least, Justin Bieber, B. B. King, Dean Martin and the unforgettable Louis Armstrong."

The faces that looked back at him were mostly still sceptical, but there was also grudging agreement. Not important. He knew he was right and at least his team needed no further conviction. "Abby, McGee, narrow your searches to people from countries who are part of the visa waiver program and where the names match to famous musicians. They stayed away from the most telling names though, so be careful you don't miss any. Maybe this way we manage to get an idea of how many more are in the US." He waited long enough to see them nod before he continued. "Okay, let's move on. Ziva, anything from your contacts?"

"I believe so. A contact in London told me that over the past few months, there were rumors about a new group that calls themselves Balance. Unfortunately, so far, only very little information has been gathered about this group. They seem to keep everything very tightly to themselves. The few people we know of who were believed to be associated with them all died under suspicious circumstances. It was usually not clear if it had been suicide or murder. There are further indications that this group is very dangerous." Ziva pressed a few keys on her laptop and a map of the world appeared on the big screen. "After talking with London, I spoke to other contacts all over the world. Most have never heard of Balance. However, they were all from third world countries or, as I realize now, from countries with visa obligation. You can see now from which countries I received a confirmation."

Dots appeared on the map, several in Europe, one in Australia, one in Japan, one in South Korea. Tony narrowed his eyes. They matched the origins of their terrorists. "That can't be a coincidence. Could they tell you any more about this group?"

"No. As in London, the most they had heard was rumors. Nothing concrete, no names, no transactions. Apart from the EU, they mostly seemed to believe that Balance does not really exist." Zivas eyes flickered to the spooks in the room before turning back to Tony. "As for the EU, thanks to the system of police cooperation established within the member states, they knew that these rumors had appeared in several of their countries, and therefore started recently to take a closer look at Balance."

"Thanks," Tony told Ziva before he too looked over to the spooks. "What about you? Do you know anything about Balance?" They glanced at each other but none spoke up. A muscle in Tony's jaw jumped. "Of course I can get SecDef back on line and ask him. Could be though that he might wonder why I have to ask him when I could have asked any of you."

Kort scowled, but started talking. "We've heard of it. There were no indications that this group could become a real threat. Or even really existed."

"Well, I suggest you brush up your assessment." Tony told him icily. He thought he had heard something similar about Al Qaeda before 9/11, but he restrained himself from making a comment. 9/11 was a touchy topic for all of them, rightly so, still, he had hoped they had at least learned from it. But this time, it wasn't too late yet. He wouldn't let it be too late. "Anything else?"

No one spoke up. "Okay. First priority is target assessment. How far are we with getting into the computers we collected at the Cullum's house?"

"They are heavily encrypted. The breaking program is still running," McGee reported.

"We need it hurried up, McGee. In the meanwhile, we need a list of possible targets. Any events or places that offer either high profile victims or a high number. Homeland and FBI, work together on that. Let's concentrate on Washington and New York for now, but warn all your offices. Also, alert all airports, train stations, bus stations and ports to heighten security. Careful though, we don't want this leaking to the press." He wasn't at all sure they could keep this secret. Experience told him otherwise, but in the end, he had no choice. They needed to put out the alerts. But maybe, they could control the information getting out at least to some degree. "Especially not about the Y. pestis. If anyone starts asking, we got an anonymous bomb threat. If there's one word about a biological weapon or the plague, heads are going to roll. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded grimly. So far so good.

"Next, background. CIA, NSA, you get me anything you can find on Balance. Their motives, names, funds, whatever there is." He turned to his people. "We have ten to twelve kidnapped people to find. Heyes, Lopez and Miller, your teams do the recons. We know when they were taken. Hit the streets, get satellite and video footage. There has to be something we can find to work with. Keller and Bell, your teams comb through the past four weeks' schedules of our superiors. Get agents from the other agencies to join you for that. They had to have transport and they now have to be holding them somewhere. Get onto that as well."

What else? His team knew what it had to do. Evidence, computers, searches, calls. Oh, one more thing. "McGee, set up a video conference in twenty minutes time with CDC and USAMRIID. They need to be briefed on the situation. And maybe they can help us with finding out where they got the pestis bacteria from. Ducky, I'd like you to attend as well. That's it for now. Back to work, everyone."

He checked his watch. Five minutes left until his update for SecDef. Watching the others leave, he called Ducky and Fornell over to him, waiting until everyone else had left the room. "Ducky, how is our suspect?"

"I dressed his hand and set the bone. None of his wounds are life threatening; however, he does need to go to a hospital soon. For now, I have given him some medicine for the pain."

He could see that Ducky wasn't happy with the situation. To be honest, he wasn't a big fan of it either. But there was nothing he could do about it. As long as his wounds weren't life threatening, they had every right to hold and interrogate him. "How about his mental state?"

Ducky shook his head. "There is not much I can tell you, Anthony. The man refused to speak, not answering one of my questions. He seemed to care little about what would happen to him. In fact, often, he just smiled."

"Is he in danger of committing suicide?" Tony was pretty sure what the answer was, wanted to hear it confirmed though.

"I wouldn't put it past him. I assume that is why a guard has been posted with him at all times?" Ducky asked.

Tony nodded, looking at Fornell. "What do you think? Interrogate him now or let him simmer for a while longer?" He truly wasn't sure what was best. Gibbs would know. But he still wasn't here and in his absence, Fornell came closest to thinking like him.

Sure enough, the older man didn't have to think long. "Let's do a first round now, see what we are getting. Then we can let him wait some more." Sounded like a plan. "You should get to your briefing or you'll be late. After all, you probably need double the time to get back to MTAC right now, after that round you took in the chest," Fornell added with a mean little smirk, as he checked his watch and walked out, having the audacity to even give a little two finger wave, leaving him alone with Ducky, who had already narrowed his eyes at him and was frowning.

Bastard.

* * *

><p>Frustrated, Ziva hung up the phone. This was getting her nowhere. She had exhausted all contacts, spoken to every person suggested to her, and come up with nothing. Balance had kept a low profile until recently, which was smart from their point of view, but very disturbing from the other side. It worried her. The unknown enemy was always the most dangerous.<p>

Breaking the pencil in her hand, she glared at the desk across from hers. Currently, all the desks were empty, with McGee being down in Abby's lab, trying to break through the encryption on the confiscated computers. It felt wrong to be alone in their bullpen while they were in the middle of a major threat. It reminded her of the time right after Somalia, a time she avoided thinking of at all costs. She understood why Gibbs had confined her to desk duty, was even ready to admit that maybe it had been the right thing to do, still, she had hated it. It gave her too much time to think and right then the last thing she wanted to do was think.

And the understanding and sympathetic looks Tony had given her constantly hadn't helped her to find her equilibrium again either. She hated that he could read her so easily, perhaps, at least some times, even better than Gibbs. At the same time she was thankful; she knew deep down it was important that there was someone who understood, without her having to say a word, because she knew she couldn't bring herself to say what needed to be said. And then the shame came. For having mistrusted him, treating him so badly. Throwing him out of her life without one word to him, even trying to get between him and Gibbs. But despite all that, he had moved heaven and earth to avenge her, and ultimately saved her. Always protecting her, ever since the day they met and even after she had pulled a gun on him.

_'Couldn't live without you, I guess.'_

She closed her eyes. His simple answer back then had haunted her ever since. At first she had thought he was only saying it to play her along, even though they had immediately hit her heart. Then, he had told her about the truth serum he had been injected with. Only then did she panic. Back then she wasn't ready to deal with the implication. In truth, she wasn't ready to deal with anything, not even life, let alone such a declaration from her partner. Which, once again, he seemed to know, as neither of them had ever brought those words up again. And she pushed him away, in any way she could. Verbally, emotionally, sometimes even physically.

But of course, he wouldn't let himself be pushed away. The most he ever did was take a step back, waiting patiently for her defenses to crumble. Always having her back in the meantime, whether she wanted it or not. Sometimes she hated him for that. Most times, she was grateful, even if it was only recently that she acknowledged it.

Some may think they had forgotten those words, spoken almost three years ago. After all, it was just six little words, spoken in an extreme situation, with all their emotions the rawest they ever had been. Especially once they had both started a relationship with other people, to everyone else it must have looked as if they had denied their existence altogether.

Truth was, there was not a day she didn't think about his words.

Opening her eyes again, she still stared at the empty desk of her partner before glancing upwards, to the director's office. On the one hand, she hated that Tony was not at his desk, where he should be. It was just wrong to not have him here. They needed his unique way of thinking, especially on this case, especially with Gibbs down. How easily he had made the connections with the aliases had shown that very clearly. Not to mention that he was their rock. Always there, always the same, reassuring just by his presence alone, even before he spoke or acted. She and McGee may usually not show it - or maybe they even forgot it - but deep down they knew they could always count on him to protect them. To always be there. And to lead them, be their strength, the few times Gibbs wasn't around, either by choice or force. But perhaps the reason why she hated him being in the director's office the most was because she didn't know how they could help him with that, have his back with this new task for him. As the daughter of a director she knew how lonely this position was by nature and not even the best intentions could change that. She could only imagine how devastating the responsibility and solitude of this position had to be for Tony, who was a team player to the very core of his being.

On the other hand though she was glad he was named director. Less because she could trust him more than anyone else to lead them well in this crisis - of that she had no doubt whatsoever - but more so because as director, his place was here in the office, running and coordinating everything safely from MTAC. Far, far away from any plague carrying bacteria.

They had been lucky there had been no contamination in the house where they had found the empty container. Being infected by the plague would be frightening and possibly deadly for anyone of course, but for it to happen to Tony again, with his lungs already so scarred from his last bout ... She shook her head, refusing to think any further.

Because the ultimate truth was, as today had showed her in no uncertain terms, that she could not live without him either, could not in fact even bear the mere thought of a world without her partner in it.

* * *

><p>"Gotcha!" With a triumphant smile Abby turned to McGee as one of her babies dinged with yet another search result. "Tony really is a genius. With the searches narrowed, there is only one fingerprint left to match. So, who do we have here? Hmm, a woman. Tina Jones. That would be Tina Turner again and Norah Jones I guess. Huh. Personally, I think they could have gone for the names of so much better artists than those boring ones. Would have been much less obvious as well. Then of course, if Tony hadn't seen the pattern, who knows how much longer it would have taken us to figure it out." Seeing that McGee was hardly paying attention to her, and not furiously typing away as he should be either, she frowned. "Hey, Timmie, you listening to me?"<p>

When she didn't get a reaction, she lightly head slapped McGee, feeling a slight stab to the heart as she did. God, she missed her silver fox bossman. But he would be okay. Ducky had reassured her. And he was Gibbs. Two little bullet wounds couldn't faze him much. Besides, Tony had said so too.

McGee for his part jerked up, rubbing the back of his head, glaring at her. "What?"

"You spaced out on me. We've got another match." She pointed at her screen with the search result.

"Good."

Abby narrowed her eyes at this unenthusiastic and terse reaction. She crossed her arms. "Okay, Timmie, out with it."

His eyebrows shot up while his eyes strayed away from hers. "What? It's nothing."

"Uhuh," was the only thing Abby offered, waiting, her eyes on McGee, heavy and demanding .

It didn't take long for him to break, just as Abby knew it wouldn't. The day when she couldn't make Timothy McGee talk to her had yet to come. Actually, she hoped it would never come. He was really the only one she could make talk. The others, Ziva, Tony, Gibbs, if they talked it was to amuse her, not because anything she said or did compelled them to do so. Well, tears helped a great deal, at least with Gibbs and Tony. She figured it was their old school upbringing.

McGee sighed deeply. "I just don't get it, Abs. How could I not see the connection between the aliases?"

Abby shrugged. "Hey, I didn't see it either and if anyone here is the music expert, it would be me. Just forget it."

But McGee shook his head and got up to pace. "No, Abby! That's not good enough! I was the one who got the better part of the hits. Ever since getting back I've had those names in front of me, compared them to God knows what, worked with them. And I saw nothing, hadn't even a clue that there was a pattern, despite it being so obvious. How? How could I not see a thing while Tony takes one look at it and already we've got the break we needed."

Abby frowned at her agitated friend. "'Cause he's Tony. That's what he does. You can break through any encryption, Ziva has her contacts and assassin skills and Tony's the clue-finder." Among other things, but she didn't think now was the right time to point that out. "But you know that. Why are you asking this now?" Her eyes narrowed. "You jealous? Because he got promoted to director?" She knew Tim had his problems with jealousy from time to time, usually of Tony. It was his biggest fault in Abby's eyes, only forgivable because she knew McGee looked up to Tony like a big brother and it was only normal when there was a bit of rivalry between brothers.

"No!" McGee protested vehemently. "Believe me, I do _not_ want to be in his position right now. I'm glad they picked him and not one of the other team leaders. Or worse, someone we don't know. We can trust _him_ to have our backs and lead us well. But that's just it. I need to know how he does these things so when he's gone, I can fill in, at least until we find someone else to bring something like it to the table."

Confused, Abby stopped his pacing with a hand on his arm. "Silly, what are you talking about? Tony's not going anywhere."

McGee stopped in front of her and looked down at her, with something that looked an awful lot like pity. "Abby. They made him director and gave him the lead in one of the most important cases we had in a decade. There is no way they let him go back to be a mere Senior Field Agent, unless he screws this up big time. But you and I both know that won't happen."

Abby found herself shaking her head furiously halfway through McGee's words. Agitated, she jumped up and was now the one pacing. "No! We stop these terrorists, recover the bio weapon, save Vance, Gibbs will come back and Tony will turn any promotions down like he always does. Everything will go back to the way it was, you'll see!"

"Sure, Abby," McGee answered and it was obvious he didn't believe her for a second. Well, he'd see it for himself! No way was Tony accepting any promotions that removed him from Gibbs' team. He was her best friend, she knew him in and out. Tony loved being Gibbs' Senior Field Agent, he loved this team. They were his family and you didn't leave family.

McGee's cell buzzed. Checking it, he looked back at Abby, all sense of pity or chagrin gone. "Ziva says Tony and Fornell are starting the interrogation now."

Halting in her pacing, she started to smile. "They ever done an interrogation together before?"

"As they are both still alive, I think not." McGee looked at the laptop he was working on. "You know, the program's running. There's nothing I can do right now to make it faster."

"Hmm, my babies are all running tests too, identifying the blood samples from where Vance was kidnapped. It will be a while before we get the first results," Abby agreed mischievously.

Another buzz came from the cell. Reading it, McGee grinned and held it up. "Ziva's getting the popcorn."

Her grin matched his. "Then we get the drinks."

* * *

><p>Fornell met DiNozzo outside the interrogation room, looking him up and down. "So, doctor gave you a clean bill?" he asked, happily letting his words drip with gleeful smugness.<p>

The dark look he earned made him laugh. Oh, if looks could kill. "You know, Toby, one of these days you'll need my help. Don't count on it. Come on, let's get this show on the road." Not waiting for an answer, DiNozzo pushed the door open and strolled in. Shaking his head, Fornell followed him in, fairly certain he once again would not get to be the bad cop. Too bad, he had hoped with Gibbs absent, it would be the perfect opportunity. Oh well.

Armstrong didn't acknowledge their arrival. Not looking up, no blinking, no word. Not a good start. Maybe he got to be the bad cop after all. He doubted the good cop routine would make this guy talk. As DiNozzo had stalked to the farthest corner away from Armstrong to lean against the wall, Fornell sat down across from the man, putting the file he had brought in in front of him. "Mr Armstrong, I'm Agent Fornell from FBI, this is Agent DiNozzo from NCIS."

"Ah, ah, ah, Toby, aren't you forgetting something?" DiNozzo interrupted.

Fornell didn't have to act the clenching of his jaw. "Sure. Sorry. That would be _Director_ DiNozzo now," he said more precisely, watching Armstrong closely. Bingo. There was the slightest flicker in his eyes.

"That's right, Deanie boy, Director DiNozzo. You didn't really think taking Director Vance and SecNav Jarvis would have any notable impact on our agency, did you?" DiNozzo asked, still staying relaxed against the wall. "Well, sorry to disappoint. That's not how we work. You cut down one head, another rises. And you buddy, have the bad luck that's me that succeeded Director Vance. Want to know why?"

Not surprisingly there was no answer. "I don't think he cares, Director."

"I think you're right." DiNozzo pushed away from the wall at last and came over to the table, leaning over Armstrong's right side. "That's not very smart of you, Mr Armstrong. No wait, it's Mr Martin, right Louis? Damn. I just can't get those names straight, can I?"

Still watching Armstrong closely for a reaction, Fornell saw another flicker in his eyes. "That's right, Armstrong. We figured out how you came to your alias. It was rather obvious, really. How long did it take us, Director?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe five minutes? Of course we had all the other names lined up beside yours, that helped immensely," DiNozzo said casually, still hovering closely over Armstrong. "But wait, you probably don't know that yet. See, we also know about the biological weapon you and your friends build and the Y. pestis. Sorry, your little distraction act of kidnapping our bosses didn't work either."

This time there was an obvious reaction, a muscle in his jaw actually jumping as if he was grinding his teeth. "And do you know how we know all that?" Fornell asked. Opening the folder in front of him, he pulled out pictures of the bodies down in autopsy and laid them out on the table. The last picture he laid down was that of Justin King, the man he had killed.

DiNozzo moved so close to the Swede's face that their cheeks almost touched, his voice dropping a note. "'Cause we found and stopped them all. Killed them. Raided your little suburban base, confiscated all your little toys and plans. So you see, all your carefully hatched out plans were for nothing. Not even a day into your little stab at terrorism and already the whole's mission's gone downhill."

"And that's not all." Fornell got out the photos of the three until a few moments ago unknown persons. "We know these people are part of your cell also. Every cop in the country has a copy on his desk by now and knows these three, Tina Jones, Frank Lennon and Bobby Stevens, are wanted for terrorism. Even if you are Swedish you have to know that it's only going to be a matter of time before we apprehend them. You talk now, we may be able to prevent the death penalty."

They were getting to him, Fornell could see that, but he was still not talking. To be honest, he wasn't sure they could get him talking. Most people broke sooner or later because they were frightened, wanted to boast or were out for blood. Fornell didn't see any of those motivations working on this guy.

"But Toby, don't forget my newest favorite pal!" DiNozzo chipped in, reached over the table to get the last photograph out of the folder. "Tom Turner. And with that, we get back to why you really, _really_ should be sorry that you taking my director and SecNav left me in charge. See, your buddy here shot my partner." He slammed the picture down onto the table and gave the chair a hard shove so Armstrong was facing him now, getting the full blast of the glare out of his dark eyes, full with rage and loathing. "That's right. _My partner._ He's in the hospital, fighting for his life as we speak. You better pray he'll make it, because if he dies, I don't care what you've said or can tell us, I'm going to make you all pay for killing my partner, starting with you. And thanks to you, no one can stop me because hey, I'm the boss."

Armstrong's breathing picked up and he visibly swallowed. Huh. Fear may just work after all. Fornell picked up there. "He's right with that, you know. I can report him if he steps over the line but stop him from killing you? I don't have that power. And you know what? Even if I had, I wouldn't. Because his partner? He happens to be my friend. Some would even say he's my best friend. So he dies? I'm going to hold you while the director here beats you to death."

The pale blue eyes of the prisoner flickered to him, nervously. Fornell calmly met his gaze, letting him see his determination and hate for this man.

"But maybe, maybe, you can safe your own worthless hide." DiNozzo straightened and took a step back. The expression in his though stayed the cold warning it was. "By talking. First we can start with where Tommy here might be because I really want to get my hands on his neck. But we'll also take anything you know about the targets, the exact type of weapon you intend to use, who else is in on this operation and of course where you're keeping our bosses."

Breathing even more heavily, Armstrong glanced between Fornell and DiNozzo. "No."

It wasn't as firm as his silence had been. And that he had spoken at all was at least some progress. Before Fornell could formulate an answer, the ringing of a cell phone interrupted the silence in the interrogation room. Raising his eyebrows, Fornell glanced at DiNozzo. Not moving from his position, he reached into his pocket for his cell and flipped it open, not taking his eyes off Armstrong. "Yeah."

Fornell and Armstrong both waited as DiNozzo listened. And held their breath when a mixture of anguish, confusion and hate washed over his face. "What! When?" he bellowed into the phone, his gaze still heavy on Armstrong. Who swallowed again with trepidation, as Fornell noticed.

It seemed like a little eternity before DiNozzo quietly thanked the person on the other end of the line and shut the phone. He slumped, his shoulders sagging down, his head lowered so far they could almost see the back of it. Several moments they stayed like that, the silence in the room almost deafening.

Then DiNozzo moved. With an inhuman cry he hurled the cell against the two-way mirror and by the time Fornell had blinked, DiNozzo had Armstrong pinned against the wall, holding him effortlessly immobile with his arm pressing against his throat. "Time's up, Armstrong. That was the hospital. My partner is dead. He. Is. Dead. Now talk - or die."

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Please don't kill me? I know, I know, this one is not a very nice one, but please keep in mind, this is just a cliffie ... Hope you still enjoyed it anyway. I'll try to finish the next chapter soon. And thank you for the absolutely wonderful reviews you gifted me with, they sure were a boost and great motivation to get this not so easy to write chapter done. <em>


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Helplessly, Fornell tugged at DiNozzo's arm, trying to pry him loose from his prey. In vain. He knew he had a fit agent in front of him, but he hadn't thought the tall Italian was quite as strong as he seemed to be. Damn, Gibbs sure had taught his boy well. "Not here, DiNozzo. Not with the witnesses in the other room. Not while we're on camera," he whispered urgently, not loud enough for the microphone, but just loud enough for DiNozzo and Armstrong to hear him.

"I don't care," DiNozzo hissed, putting even more pressure on Armstrong's throat.

Armstrong for his part started laughing. "Yeah, come on. Do it! You might as well just kill me because I sure as hell won't tell you anything!"

"Oh, you won't? Let's see about that." His face still barely something you could still call human, DiNozzo gripped Armstrong's shot hand with his free one, using his thumb to press slightly onto the bandage.

The blonde turned even whiter than he had been so far. He hissed, "You bastard. I'm sorry Tom killed your partner. He had it way too easy. But at least I know you will die a slow, painful death once my friends have finished their mission."

DiNozzo stared him in the eyes before he abruptly eased up the pressure and hauled Armstrong back onto his seat. "Sorry to disappoint. See, a few years back some lunatic already tried to kill me with the plague." He stretched out his arms and smiled a smile that sent cold shivers down even Fornell's spine. "As you can see, I'm still here with lots and lots of antibodies in my blood. The black death won't get me again." He leaned over Armstrong. "Nor will it kill anyone else. You know why? Because we won't let it."

Again Armstrong laughed. "You think you can stop us? We've been born and bred just for this moment. We're everywhere. By tomorrow evening the world as we've known it will no longer exist and no pompous, stupid US goons have even the slightest chance of preventing it."

Like flipping a switch, DiNozzo turned off all the emotions he had displayed so far and stepped calmly away from Armstrong. "You know what? I'll just let you live long enough to see that by tomorrow evening, nothing has changed. Nothing at all." With that he turned on his heel and left the room. Fornell glanced between Armstrong and him, before he too slowly left the room. DiNozzo was waiting outside, leaning against the wall, apparently deep in thought.

"Well. That was..." unusual, strange, unexpected? Fornell wasn't sure what to call what he had just witnessed in the interrogation room, "... interesting."

DiNozzo looked up, smiling. It still wasn't exactly a nice smile but it was a far cry from the one he had given Armstrong. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

Fornell actually took the time to think about his answer. "No." No problem at all, not that he was going to admit as much. "You got him to talk."

"Little as it was," DiNozzo shrugged and looked at the agent guarding the door. "Get him to the ER, let them treat him. As soon as they're done, he's coming back to us. Be with him at all times, no exception, not even for a piss or shit. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the agent nodded and slipped back into the room.

DiNozzo looked after him as if he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head, frowning slightly, his eyes going to the closed door of the observation room. He pushed away from the wall and went in. Curious, Fornell followed him - and had a hard time suppressing a smile when he saw the rest of Gibbs' extended team scattered around the room that smelled suspiciously like popcorn.

"What's this? Movie night?" DiNozzo demanded to know in a tone that sounded eerily like his boss. "Back to work, before I write you all up for insubordination!"

But none of them moved, just stared at their new director with wide, bright eyes. No, not bright, Fornell recognized with a frown. Teary.

"Tony?" Gibbs' girl asked with a quivering voice. "Gibbs ..."

As her voice broke off, DiNozzo visibly softened. "Is fine, Abs. He's still in recovery, soon to be moved to his own room."

"But ... You said ..." she stammered, but got interrupted by McGee. "My God. You just used that to get him to talk?" Fornell wasn't sure if that was horror or admiration in his voice, probably both, judging from the way he looked at his boss.

"It's called interrogation technique, McObvious," DiNozzo told him, moving over to the still distraught forensic expert to hug her and kiss the top of her head.

Blinking furiously, she punched his chest before giving him a hug, missing the flash of pain washing over DiNozzo's face. "You bastard! How could you? Don't you know what a bad mojo this is? I swear to all the forensic gods that if something happens to Gibbs now, it's your fault!"

With a sigh, DiNozzo freed himself from her grip. "Well, Abs, you weren't invited to this party. Not my fault you heard things that weren't for you to hear. And he wasn't going to talk. I had to shake him up a little."

"He still did not talk," Ziva pointed out.

"Didn't he?" DiNozzo looked at everyone of them, waiting. When no one answered, he shook his head minutely and looked at the FBI man. "Care to enlighten them, Agent Fornell?"

Fornell wondered at the formal address, but complied. "He gave us a timeline. Tomorrow evening. Whatever they have planned, it's going down tomorrow evening. That helps to narrow down the possible targets considerably." They frowned but he didn't elaborate further. It was better they figured it out themselves. "Also, we know now that we have to deal with fanatics. If he was 'born and bred' for this mission, we have to assume they all were. They wouldn't risk hiring outsiders for such an important mission." He looked at DiNozzo, who nodded.

"Makes it easier to control the information as well. This probably explains why no one heard much of them so far. Makes it more dangerous too. They most likely won't stop for anything. Not to mention that they must have planned this for decades." DiNozzo gave Fornell a look of silent communication. The older agent didn't like where this was going, and once they were alone they would have to talk about it. For now, DiNozzo changed the topic. "I've got to brief SecDef. Afterwards, I need to go talk with Jackie and Mrs Jarvis. They need to know what's going on with their husbands. Can you hold the fort for me here, Toby?"

Fornell frowned, but nodded. With everything happening so fast he had totally forgotten that they had families to inform about the abduction of their superiors. He too would have to make some calls.

"Good. And can you spare some personnel for the protection detail for them? I'd like to up it, just in case, but we're already stretched as it is."

Again, Fornell nodded, making notes to arrange for more security for his people's families as well.

"We could go to inform Mrs Vance and Mrs Jarvis for you, Tony," Ziva spoke up. "I have exhausted all my leads, so I would have time."

DiNozzo shook his head. "Thanks, but they should hear it from me. I'll only be gone for an hour or so and you can reach me by phone."

Fornell raised an eyebrow at the flash of annoyance that washed over the former Mossad agent's face and sure enough, she protested again. "You really think now is the right time to leave the Navy Yard, Tony? As director your place is here. You have your agents to dispatch for such tasks. Or, if you absolutely must, you can speak with the wives over the phone."

Straightening, DiNozzo stepped up to Ziva to stare her down. "Are you questioning me?"

Fornell had to give it to her, the woman just raised her chin and glared right back at him. "Yes, I am. You leaving the Navy Yard is not a sensible idea at the moment."

"She's got a point, Tony," McGee chimmed in, much to Fornell's surprise. "With Gibbs in the hospital and Vance and SecNav kidnapped, you shouldn't take any risks. We can't lose you too."

DiNozzo narrowed his eyes. "This is ridiculous. It's not like I plan to go on a mission. And we don't have time for this nonsense. McGee, you and Abby get back to the lab to work on that encryption. We need to know what's in there, it's top priority. Ziva, you go help with the surveillance tapes."

But again, Ziva only shook her head, resolutely. "No. If you insist on being so reckless as to leave the Navy Yard, then I will at least go with you."

"Agent David, that's enough. I gave you a direct order. If you can't follow it, you're welcome to give me your badge and weapon," DiNozzo warned dangerously quietly; the glare he was giving her was one Fornell doubted even Gibbs at his best could have mustered up.

Again, it was McGee who came to his partner's defense. "It's protocol, Tony. The director of NCIS is to be accompanied by a protection detail of at least two agents at all times. Now, we all know the directors have occasionally skipped their detail - but never during a crisis. I think we can all agree that this _is _a crisis. It's for all our protection, not just yours, Tony."

"Besides, you yourself ordered that no one is to go out into the field alone, didn't you?" Abby pointed out. "Please Tony? You know I couldn't bear it if something happened to you too? I'm already in overdrive with having to worry about Gibbs and Vance and Jarvis. You can't make me worry even more or I'll break down. I so totally will!"

Seeing that DiNozzo was still reluctant to give in, Fornell decided to put an end to it. "For God's sake, DiNozzo, just accept the protection detail already. They're right after all, we can't let you leave this building without protection. It's either your own people or I'll order a FBI team onto your detail."

The muscles in DiNozzo's jaw worked overtime as he glared in turn at each of them. "Fine. David, we'll leave in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Boss," she answered, innocently.

With a huff, DiNozzo left. Fornell waited until everyone cleared the room, before he finally allowed the grin that had threatened to take over his face ever since entering the observation room to come out.

* * *

><p>The tires screeched as they flew around the corner, making Tony grind his teeth. Still, he didn't slow down, breaking one of his most important rules: don't drive angry. He knew better than that, normally, from bitter experience. It was what had killed his mother. Alcohol had been involved as well, but then again, his mother had driven around inebriated for years without one single accident. It had only been when she had run out into the rainy night after a particular big fight with his father, mad as hell, that she finally lost control of the car.<p>

God, she had been so furious. Tony had been used to his parents fighting and he couldn't remember what this particular fight had been about, but he remembered the ride vividly, the way the car had gained speed with every passing minute, his mother constantly muttering under her breath or cursing out loud. When they were all but flying along the winding roads and Tony had been thrown around roughly on the backseat, he had begged his mom to stop, not even caring that he was breaking two of his father's rules; no crying, no begging. But his mother hadn't listened to him, why should she? She never had before, unless he had been playing piano, or singing in his hated sailor's uniform. And even then she had only listened to the music, never to him. So ultimately, the car had flown off the road, sending them flipping down a hill and crashing into a tree. He wished he could say she had been killed instantly. But it had taken her hours to die and even more hours for them to be found and the fire department to rescue him from the wreck.

So no, under any normal circumstances he would never ever drive angry.

But this day was anything but normal and he knew no other outlet for his frustration and anger at the current situation, obnoxious co-workers, fucking Balance and their lunatic fanatics – and even freaking Gibbs for leaving him alone with all this mess – but to press his foot down on the accelator.

And Ziva didn't even have the decency to look afraid in the passenger seat. Shouldn't surprise him, it took much more than some reckless driving to frighten his former Mossad partner and even more to let her show she was frightened. Still it irked him. Wasn't every day he was the one driving way beyond the speed limit and taking bends with tires screeching when he wasn't even in a car chase after all. Just how many times had she and the others accused him of driving like an old lady? At the next bend he waited until the last second before he jerked the steering wheel around, sending them into an almost spinning hard right turn. There might even been no contact with the road for the right side tires for a moment. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ziva gripping the handle so tightly that her knuckles whitened, and he grinned with satisfaction. No one would even think old lady right now. Just because he usually chose to drive within the law and roadsafety rules didn't mean he couldn't give Gibbs or Ziva a race and come out winning anytime. And as long as he was the one in control of the wheel, he actually could even enjoy the wild ride. It was when others were in control that made his gut churn.

So why didn't he feel better now? To all intents and purposes, he was the one in charge right now. Not completely of course, but all things considered, he was the one calling the shots. No team leader, no director, no SecNav to screw with him or stop him from doing what was necessary. And hell, for the most part, he _did_ like that. It enabled him to watch out for his team like he had never been able to do before. Watch out for everyone really. It was almost too much responsibility to bear, but he could deal with that. It was all the other stuff that he hated. Not being in the field, not being on his team's six out there, the White House breathing down his neck, all the people who just waited and hoped for him to screw this up. The protection detail.

Ha! He had two guns and a knife and had watched out for his own hide his whole life; he didn't need anyone to bodyguard him! Least of all Ziva, who he had trained himself.

Okay, so she had needed little training in the fight department. Her father and Mossad had taken care of that. But for everything else, investigating, processing and yes, protecting instead of being the threat, he and Gibbs had had to show and train her.

They had created a monster, as Tony was fast finding out. First she hadn't wanted him to drive, his needing to threaten her, again, to finally make her concede. Then, when they pulled up in the Vances' driveway, she demanded he stay in the car until she cleared the area and when reaching the door, again she insisted on going in first before letting him enter. When he asked her to leave him and Jackie alone, she only gave him a look and retreated as far back as the door to stay in the background, refusing to let him out of her sight. Ridiculous!

The only reason he didn't ream her out right then and there was because Jackie was already distraught enough and didn't need to wait for them to finish their quarrel. She'd been an agent's wife for many, many years, so when he had shown up at her doorstep out of the blue she had known immediately that he was the bearer of bad news. But she had been strong the entire time while he explained the situation to her, and when he had promised her that they'd do all they could to get Leon back safe and sound, she had even mustered up a smile to assure him that she had no doubts about that. Thank God she held back the tears until after they had left! He and the director had never seen completely eye to eye, but he had to admit, the man had excellent taste in women. Jackie Vance really was something else, even calmly answering any of his questions despite the bad news she had just received, and his respect for her and consequently also her husband grew, strengthening his resolve to find the director and bring him home to his family.

Mrs Jarvis had had more of a hard time, despite being a soldier's wife. Well, her husband's active service days were long gone, and the dangers a SecNav faced were usually perhaps not exactly in the bodily harm ball park, let alone life endangering. So she was probably not as prepared as Jackie and had been quite a mess when they had left.

Ziva of course once again insisted on going in before him and waiting until he was back in the car before getting in as well; but not before she had checked out the interior, going as far as to have him pop open the trunk to check it as well.

Simply _more_ ridiculous. As he had tried to tell her. But she wasn't listening. Again. All she did was point out that as it was her duty to keep him safe, orders, even coming from him, that went against that duty were to be ignored. She even had the nerve to actually complain because he had insisted on only her going with him instead of the mandatory two agent protection detail, and she now had to cover him all alone.

So he broke his rule and drove angry, because she couldn't be fazed and he, despite being the fucking director of NCIS was in reality powerless to change this laughable situation.

Shit.

Clenching his jaw, he forced his foot to ease off the accelator. He had to, otherwise he would only speed up until he lost control. And no matter how angry he was, he would never risk Ziva's life, especially not like that. Besides, he still had an attack to stop.

He was wound up, that was the problem. Perhaps justifiably so but that was no excuse. He needed to get himself back under control. Lives depended on him having a clear head.

Not helping.

Taking a deep breath, he considered his options. It didn't take him long to remember just what he needed to get himself back in line. With grim resolution he took yet another swift turn, going in the opposite direction from the Navy Yard.

* * *

><p>Ziva had raised an eyebrow when he had pulled into Bethesda's parking lot but had said nothing. This time, Tony just let her run the show, check out the perimeters, going through doors first and over all be a good little bodyguard. That was until they reached the door of Gibbs' room.<p>

"You stay here."

She opened her mouth but he silenced her with one look. Unsurprisingly she scowled, but closed her mouth into a thin line and stood back. Satisfied, he gave a short nod at the agent he had put to guard Gibbs and entered the room, bracing himself.

Not that it helped much to lessen the shock of seeing his boss pale and hooked up to various machines. Weak. Defenseless.

Swallowing, he quietly moved to his bedside, his eyes sweeping over Gibbs' still, unconscious body. The heart monitor beeped and while that in itself was disturbing, at least the beat was reassuringly even and steady. There was no vent either, also a positive sign.

"He's doing pretty well, all things considered, you know? We're still waiting for him to wake up to be sure, but his doctors, and I'm with them on this, expect a full recovery."

Startled, Tony turned around. Jimmy was sitting in a chair by the window. Having only had eyes for his boss, he hadn't even noticed him. That was not good. Maybe, just maybe, Ziva had been right after all that he wasn't fit to protect himself anymore. He looked back to his boss and smirked. _'Not even half a day on the job and already forgetting the basic rules, bet you'd love that, huh, boss?'_

There was no answer, of course. Still, it almost hurt physically to receive no head slap or a Gibbs' patented _'ya think?'_. Desperately needing something, anything to distract him from the sudden bolt of grief assaulting him, he looked back to Jimmy, taking in the bone tired features and dark circles under his eyes. He walked over to sit in the chair opposite him, putting a hand on Jimmy's shoulder and giving it a good squeeze. "Thank you, Jimmy, for staying and keeping an eye on him. We all were relieved to know he's in good hands."

The young ME came as far as letting out a snort before Tony tightened his grip on his shoulder and forced him to keep looking at him. "Stop it right there. You did an extremely good job today. So you froze, big deal. It happens, even to seasoned agents." He nodded to the disturbingly still figure occupying the bed. "Hell, it even happened to _him_, I've seen it with my very own, shocked eyes. What does count is what you do afterwards and what did you do, seconds after you came out of it?"

Jimmy tried to look away, but Tony wouldn't let him. "Jim, what did you do after terrorists tried their best to kill you?" His friend mumbled something. "What was that?"

"I helped Dr Mallard to stabilize Agent Gibbs," Jimmy finally gave in, giving Tony one of his rare glares.

Tony smiled. "Exactly. And as he's still alive, I'd say that was one hell of a job you did. Got it?"

Jimmy said nothing but Tony was confident that he had started to finally get through to his gremlin friend. It would need more time, sting for a while longer, but the thorn should be out now. "Good. You should go home now, kiss that beautiful bride of yours and get some rest."

But Jimmy frowned and looked over to his sort of patient. "Can you spare anyone else to be with him?"

"Not the entire time, but I'm sure he'll have plenty of visitors come to check on him." Of that he had no doubt. Just like him, Ducky, Abby, Tim, they couldn't stay away for long. Ziva too, if she got her mind off whatever frequency it was on at the moment. "Besides, you said the worst is over. He wouldn't appreciate us keeping vigil over him."

There was a ghost of a smile on Jimmy's face, but also firm resolution. "Then I'll stay."

Tony's first instinct was to insist on him going home. Breena could do much more for the gentle man's bruised ego and psyche than he or anyone else ever could. Also, he suspected she would have no trouble helping him remember to be glad to be alive rather than dwell on a natural bodily reaction in the face of danger. But he was tired himself and knew his friend enough to see that this would be an argument he could only lose. Besides, Jimmy was part of the team. It was as much his right to stay here if he wanted to as it was his or Abby's or Ducky's. And he couldn't deny either that he felt better knowing Jimmy would be here to watch over the boss while he couldn't.

"Okay. Thanks. But for now, use the opportunity and take a break. Go get yourself something to eat and drink while I stay with Gibbs." Jimmy sure could use a break. Besides, he wanted to be alone with the boss. "Ziva's outside, tell her I won't move until you're back; that there's already a guard watching the door; that she should go with you and that that's an order."

Jimmy was giving him a somewhat uncertain and curious look that Tony ignored. Finally, he shrugged and got up, stretching, before heading out without another word. Tony watched the door close and took much longer to face the inevitable than he should have needed to: to look back at Gibbs, still unconscious, still vulnerable, still unresponsive. Still possibly dying, no matter how good the prognosis looked. Shaking his head, Tony got up and moved back to stand beside the bed.

"You know, Boss, it's not really fair to sleep on the job yourself when you probably gave me brain damage with all the head slaps when _I _slept on the job."

No response. Damn it. When would he stop being disappointed by that?

"You sure picked a hell of a time to check out on us. We discovered a so far unknown terrorist group with plague bacteria, bombs and really good funds, and no idea what the target is or where the hell these lunatics are. Oh, and they also kidnapped Vance, SecNav and the directors of FBI, CIA, NSA and Homeland so we're in really deep shit now. And guess who they thought should make the calls now and be the perfect sacrificial lamb if this all blows up in our faces which it most likely will?" Tony looked expectantly at his boss. "Yep, that's right, little ol' me. They made me director a.i. and dumped the lead with me. Now, do you feel reassured by that?"

Too restless to stand still, Tony paced to the other side of the bed. "Yeah, me neither. I'm so screwed, Boss, and frankly speaking, I don't know how much longer I can keep this farce up. They doubt and question every order I give, I don't want to know even half the things they say behind my back, I have to be social with Kort, Toby, NSA and Homeland, got the SecDef, Attorney General and Under Secretary breathing down my neck, can't go out into the field and when I do they stuck me with a protection detail. Something's wrong with Ziva, I have no idea what, but it screws up her focus and ability to function in the field and I don't know what to do with her, while I can't send out McGee because I need him at the computers, but perhaps that's good, because it sure feels like they are gunning for us out there and if I could I would rather call all agents in and keep them safely on the Navy Yard."

Running his hands through his hair, he paced back to the other side. "But I can't, because they plan something big, way bigger than 9/11, I just know it. We got one of them and while he's not really talking, he kept going on and on about how by tomorrow evening the world as we know it will not exist anymore and more stuff about global impact. They're all from countries in the visa waiver program, boss. I got a real bad feeling about that. He said there are too many of them to stop. Boss, I think they plan simultaneous attacks on all the strong, leading countries in the world. I know it's crazy, but you haven't seen how fanatical those crazys are, how well organized, how damn good. How many resources they have. They're determined to change the world, no idea why, but it doesn't really matter, does it? What does matter is that they're not stupid, far from it, and they have to know that they can't change the world if they only hit us. But if they hit us at the same time as Europe, Asia and all the other continents ..."

Tony stopped, leaning on Gibbs' bed with his fists tightly clenched. "But I have no proof whatsoever. At this point, no one will listen to me so I haven't shared my theories yet. I want to alert those other countries, but I can't do that without the help and consent from the White House and hell, Boss, if I were them I wouldn't act just on my hunch either. On the other hand, if we do nothing despite having our suspicions, the fallout when this comes out could be as devastating as the attack itself. Not to mention all the lives not saying anything could endanger."

"We need proof but time's running out. It's not that we've made no progress at all, hell, even to be aware of the impending attack is really a big advantage and win for us. We killed some of their operatives, confiscated computers and equipment, managed to hinder them at least somewhat and even caught one of them alive. I'd like to hope all that make them perhaps reconsider things, maybe postpone the attack. I really do. But I doubt it. They've put too much effort, money and coordination into it to stop now. Besides, probably it's better they proceed as planned. At least now we have some idea of what's to come; there's no guarantee we'll have the same luck the next time they hit us."

With a sigh he straightened and moved to the foot of the bed, staring at the unmoving body of his boss. Letting it all out had felt good. He'd needed to get it all off his chest, that was why he'd come here. It didn't matter that the boss was unconscious. He was the only one he could lose it with. Especially now. The others, they needed him to keep it together, to be certain of himself and his decisions. The doubt in them was already bad enough, for them to detect the slightest hesitation in him would have catastrophic consequences. But Gibbs trusted him, always. Well, almost always, there were the times he kept running off to deal with a problem or threat himself. And while that scared and enraged Tony to no end, he knew it had nothing to do with Gibbs not trusting them but with being afraid for them. What he knew was that even with the most far fetched ideas Tony came up, Gibbs was always willing to listen to them and run with it.

"So you see, Boss, right about now would be a really good time for you to wake up again."

Hopefully, he watched his boss for any sign of stirring. When none came, he looked away, trying to not let the unresponsiveness crush him too much. The man had been shot twice and been in surgery until a few hours ago. They could be glad he was still alive and was expected to stay so for a while. Still. It was just wrong to see the boss like this and while he knew he wouldn't get up to go back to the office and take over, relieving Tony of his heavy burden, he desperately needed to know he would at least awaken. Still be himself.

Looking back at him, he slowly rounded the bed again, this time stopping at the head of it. He knew without a doubt what Gibbs would do to rouse him, but he hesitated. It would be the first time the tables were turned in that regard and he wasn't sure it would work as well with the boss as it did with him. Then again, Ziva had told him about the time she had tried it when Gibbs had been in the hospital the last time, having lost his memory. It had worked then, so ...

Biting his lips, he looked nervously around before slowly stretching out his arm. "Nap time's over, Boss."

His hand was perhaps half an inch away from the grey hair when a cranky, hoarse voice froze him mid-slap. "Think again, DiNozzo."

TBC

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Well, you didn't really think I would be so heartless to kill off Gibbs, did you? Thanks for the many and most importly truly wonderful reviews, guys! Leve them and they sure make my day. Hope you all like this one too. I'm sorry the chapters take longer now but well, first, they are longer than the first few and second, I'm in a part of the story that is not as clear to me as was the beginning or the end already is. But be assured that I'm working on the story regularly and do hope to get over this middle part soon. And back to the action. Oh yeah, there is definitely action in the next one, so stay tuned to find out what happens next!<em>


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Elated, Tony quickly moved so he was within his boss's field of vision. He himself had woken up often enough in the hospital to know such little things helped immensely. That was also why he slipped his hand into Gibbs' to squeeze it lightly and beamed at him. "Boss. 'bout time."

It took a long moment for Gibbs' eyes to open. They were still mostly unfocused, but Tony had no trouble reading the question in them. "About twelve hours," he told him quietly.

The eyes closed again. Tony knew he should call a nurse or doctor, let them know that their patient had woken up, and he would, in a moment. First he wanted to see if Gibbs would slip right back under or if he had the strength to hold on to consciousness for a little bit longer. He bet it was the latter. Sure enough, Gibbs struggled to open his eyes again, blinking at him, trying to focus. Tony tightened his hold on the Boss's hand a bit. Gibbs blinked again, then managed to focus on Tony with a bit more clarity. "Team?"

"They're fine, Boss. No one was hurt beside you. And we got all but one of them," he answered, knowing Gibbs needed to know these two things.

The relief was evident in the (right now not so piercing) blue eyes of his boss and he seemed to relax a bit. Tony used the moment to press the call button.

"Verdict?"

Looking back down at Gibbs, Tony offered another smile, involuntarily squeezing his hand tighter. "Two GSW, chest and shoulder. They got them out. Bullet to the shoulder tore through some muscle." He hesitated, but he knew Gibbs would want it straight. Tony wouldn't want it any other way either. "They repaired it, but it'll take some time to see if you regain full mobility. I'm not worried though. They don't know yet what a stubborn, impatient former marine you are."

The glare Gibbs gave him was pretty much pathetic, but it was a glare alright and Tony inexplicably suddenly felt a big fat rock in his throat, and his eyes felt suspiciously wet. But he only offered a sheepish grin in return. "Water?" he asked, remembering how dry his mouth and throat had always felt when their roles had been reversed.

At the tiny nod he looked around to see a bottle and a glass on the table by the window. Moving over, he quickly half-filled the glass and went back to the bed. The nurse came in. Tony nodded at the now awake patient, and she smiled. "I'll go get Dr Burns."

Gently lifting Gibbs' head, Tony held the glass to his mouth and let him take some sips before he lowered him back down and put the glass onto the nightstand, taking a bit longer than needed, drawing out the inevitable: Gibbs' demand for a sitrep.

Tony didn't indulge himself for a second in believing he could fool Gibbs, even drugged up and still half-conscious. No matter how good he usually was at masking, distracting, fooling or straight out lying, Gibbs could somehow always see straight through it – pretty much from the beginning of their acquaintance, though in the first few years it hadn't come as easily to the marine as it did now. It had scared the shit out of Tony. He needed his masks in order to function, to feel in control. Lately though, he sometimes downright appreciated having one person in his life who knew him inside out, who could read him, no words needed. Who he could be himself with, didn't have to keep the masks up 24/7.

Sometimes though it was just a pain in the ass and now was one of those times. Gibbs needed lots and lots of rest. If he got wind of what exactly was going on, any chance of that happening flew out of the window. The Boss would worry and nag and try to check himself out AMA to get back to the office and be of any help he could be.

Dr Burns arrived, saving him for now, and Tony made himself fade into the background, not wanting to be thrown out, needing to hear Gibbs' answers to the standard questions he knew would come. Happy, he listened to Gibbs tiredly answering them all correctly. No memory loss this time. He hadn't thought so, not after the few words exchanged between them since he had woken up, but it still was a relief to have it confirmed. Dr Burns was satisfied too, promised to be back, ordered Gibbs to rest and most importantly sleep some more, and left again.

Immediately, Gibbs sought Tony out again. "You okay?" he asked with a frown.

Sighing inwardly, Tony steeled himself. With a grin, he came back to Gibbs' bedside. "Much better, now that you're back with us," he answered, one hundred percent honestly. It was always best to stay as close to the truth as possible. "But you heard the doctor. You need sleep and I need to get back to the office. Like I said, one of them is still on the loose." He nodded towards the door. "There's a guard on the door, just as a precaution. And here." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he got out Gibbs' small backup piece and pressed it into his boss' left hand. "Knife's in the night stand, top drawer."

Eyes full of gratitude, Gibbs nodded and the gun disappeared beneath the covers. Most people would declare him crazy for giving someone who just came out of major surgery weapons and if Gibbs hadn't had had a straight head, Tony would have taken them back with him. But Gibbs wasn't normal people, not even close to it and neither was Tony. Gibbs was a marine and Tony was a cop. They were both soldiers in the war against crime and had many enemies. More than one of them could have the idea to take revenge on them while they were weak and defenseless. They needed the weapons in order to feel safe. Besides, being armed had become such second nature to them both that to not have some weapon close left them uneasy to the point of agitation. Not helpful for a fast recovery. Understanding that about each other, they always saw to it that the hospital bound partner was armed as soon as he was lucid enough to be trusted with a weapon.

Tony watched as Gibbs' eyelids drowsily lowered, closed, and snapped up again. He rolled his eyes. "Sleep, Boss. One of us'll be here when you wake up again."

Gibbs blinked, before giving up and letting his eyes close again, his breathing deepening. Tony listened to it for a moment, let it sooth and reassure him, before he quietly stepped away.

"Tony."

Smiling, he looked back to his boss, who had his eyes still closed. "Yeah, Boss, I'll watch my six."

Gibbs smiled and went promptly back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Jimmy and Ziva weren't back yet and Tony had no intention of hanging around in the hallway until they were. Leaving the guard with his whereabouts to pass on to Ziva, Tony rode the elevator back down to ground level and moved towards the emergency room in order to check on Armstrong's status. It took some badge flashing but he was finally pointed to exam room three. Nearing it, he frowned as his gut twisted. He quickened his step, finally spotting a big three on one of the doors. The blinds to the room were closed and there was no agent standing guard. The twist in his gut turned to a scream as he drew his weapon and quietly moved to the door.<p>

Some hospital personnel saw him, their eyes going wide. With his left hand he held up his badge, then put his finger on his lips before pointing back the way he came. Thankfully, they took the hint and scrambled away. He waited until the last of them had cleared the hallway before he carefully opened the door a crack. All he could see was one of his agents, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Far too much blood to have any hope that he was still alive. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself not to rush things. No one took a shot at him or rushed him, so he pushed the door all the way open, going in in a crouch, quickly scanning the exam room.

"Son of a bitch." Exhaling, he stood up, ramming his gun back into its holster with more force than needed. He was too late. Still, he moved first to the body at the door then to the one lying on his back by the bed to be sure that both of the agents he had sent with Armstrong to the hospital were beyond help. It was obvious, Agent Matthews had his throat cut open while Agent Perth was sporting a neat little hole between his unseeing eyes, but he couldn't help himself and checked both for a pulse. Their bodies were still warm to the touch, but definitely no pulse. Clenching his jaw, he stood up and looked at the bed. Armstrong had been right after all. He wouldn't be telling them anything else, seeing that his throat too was cut so deeply that his head was half severed from its body. Actually, the blood was still spilling out.

Tony frowned. Without a heart beat, the blood flow very quickly ceased: meaning this had to have happened pretty recently. Pushing away all thoughts of his dead agents, he once again went for his gun and left the room. Security had been alerted and was approaching. "We have three bodies. Secure the crime scene, let no one into this room until my MEs show up. It must have just happened so our perp may still be on site. Close off all exits, do a floor to floor search, beginning here and with the parking level," he ordered, already moving to the stairs to get down to the parking level, running only on instinct.

If he were the perp, he'd have gone for the exit the moment he'd done his job. And as he assumed the perp hadn't walked here or taken the bus or a taxi, parking level it was. Maybe he was wrong, but if he had taken the main door, he'd be long gone anyway. But there still might be a chance to catch him if he had had to go for his car. He dashed through the door to the parking level without much care. Chances that the perp was waiting around to see if someone followed him and take him out were slim. Instead of beginning his search, he headed at full speed towards the exit. There were three parking levels and he was alone. The only chance he had, if the perp was still in the building, was to stop the escape at the exit ramp.

Reaching it, he positioned himself in the middle of the exit lane in front of the barrier, legs spread wide, hands outstretched, the gun steadily trained towards the parking spaces, and waited. He didn't have to stay like that for long, hearing the car long before it took the last turn to head straight for him, going the normal speed. Still, Tony knew the driver of this black Mercedes was the man that had killed his agents. Had to be sure though. Of course, there were cameras taping all this but no chance in hell was he letting this asshole get away on a technicality. So he held up his badge while keeping his gun steady on the approaching car. "Federal Agent. Stop the car!" he bellowed.

Most likely his identification went unheard, but it was a moot point. Were this his perp, he'd gun it, if it were civilians, seeing a badge and a gun trained on them should stop them, not to mention the man blocking their exit. He smiled grimly when the Mercedes, instead of slowing to a stop, accelerated and headed straight for him. Not moving from his spot, he opened fire. His first two rounds went through the windshield, though not the driver's side, his next two took out both front tires. As much as he wanted to kill the son of a bitch, they needed him alive.

The car spun, crashing into a line of parked vehicles. Shrill car alarms started going off. Tony waited, not taking his eyes off the car that wasn't twenty feet from him, his finger on the trigger. But the driver didn't come out, guns blazing, instead, his door opened and two hands appeared, showing they held no gun. Tony could only see the back of the hands though and he frowned. "Hands in the air. Get out slowly."

The door opened wider and the cold, piercing blue eyes were the first thing Tony recognized, even before the black haired man who had shot Gibbs this morning was fully out of Mercedes and standing in front of him. _Tom_. Tony's finger on the trigger itched to take the shot he so badly wanted to, but he controlled his rage. "Tom Turner, you're under arrest for first degree murder, attempted murder, terrorism, assault on a federal agent and resisting arrest. Kneel, stretch out your arms and lie down."

Where the hell was security? He could really use some backup right about now. Before he could continue with the Miranda rights, Tom laughed. "Agent DiNozzo, so nice to see you! I kinda hoped I'd run into you again."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Funny. Me too. Now get on the ground." Tom was too cocky for Tony's liking. Noticing that he could still only see the back of Tom's hands, unease settled in his stomach. "Turn your hands so I can see them."

"Oh, with pleasure. You know, Agent DiNozzo, or I guess, thanks to me now _Director_ DiNozzo, you're starting to be a real nuisance. We've quite had it now with you crossing our plans. While you won't be able to stop us, working around you's getting to be too much trouble." Still smiling, Tom finally complied and turned his hands. "Catch."

Tony had only the blink of a second to recognize the grenade in Tom's hand before it was hurled at him. Cursing, he dove out of its way.

"_Tony_!" Ziva's frightened scream was the last thing he heard before the world exploded around him.

* * *

><p>Waking up felt like a massively bad idea. Yet, something pulled him mercilessly from the soothing slumber back into a world of confusion and some pain. Although, thanks to the painkillers they gave him straight into the vein, the pain wasn't that big an issue right now. Blinking, Gibbs tried to identify what had compelled him to wake up. He couldn't be sure, but he doubted it was long since DiNozzo had left him.<p>

It was a sign of how doped up he was that it took him seemingly ages to become aware of the sirens blaring. Not those of the machines attached to him, but the one overhead, signaling evacuation or at least some other kind of alarm. Instinct had him trying to get up and help; his body though had other ideas. He could barely lift his head and arms, getting up altogether was out of the question. Still he struggled, his gut telling him to do it. Something was wrong.

Tony.

That relentless and worrying unease was all too familiar to him and had DiNozzo's name written all over it. His Senior Field Agent was in trouble, he just knew it. Damn it! He needed to get up!

Weakly, he pulled at the first tube he could reach, desperate to get free. To rise. To find Tony, make sure he was okay. Hear him tell him he was fine, even if it was obvious he was far from it. But as long as DiNozzo insisted he was fine, he was fighting. Had no intention of giving up. Was well and lucid enough to deflect, which by his standards meant he was most likely not going to die. So yeah, Gibbs always wanted to hear DiNozzo's standard 'I'm fine' when he had been hurt, because the alternative was unacceptable.

"Agent Gibbs, what are you doing?" an alarmed voice sounded from the door and shortly after, his hands were grabbed and forced away from the tube. He struggled against them, but he was too weak to have any chance of winning this fight. He finally gave up, though it was really more to avoid passing out completely. He glared up at his orderly, surprised to see it was Palmer.

"Palmer, what do you think you are doing?" he growled.

"Making sure you don't hurt yourself, Agent Gibbs," the young ME answered, nervously but resolutely. "Tony ordered me to look out for you, make sure you heal nicely." The look Palmer gave him had a surprising amount of steel in it. "I promised him, Agent Gibbs, and I keep my promises."

Of course DiNozzo would make sure there was someone here to watch him. But who was watching his SFA's six, while he laid in this stupid hospital bed, fucking useless, too weak to even fight off Palmer? Scowling, he looked longingly over at the door. "What's going on? Why the sirens? Where's DiNozzo?"

Palmer followed his gaze. "I'm not sure. Suddenly, there was an explosion and the alarms went off. Ziva told me to get back to you and then went to see what had happened. I haven't seen Tony since leaving him with you."

Gibbs ground his teeth. "Find out."

"Uh ..."

"I'm not going to calm down until I know the status of my team. Either you go and find DiNozzo for me or I'm going," he flipped, meaning every word. His body would just have to obey. He was a marine. He'd make it obey.

Palmer must have recognized the determination in his voice too as he muttered "Fine." under his breath and moved to the door. Gibbs could hear him talking to the guard Tony had positioned there, not able to make out the words though. Moments later, the guard stepped into the room. He recognized him as one of the Junior Agents on Miller's team, couldn't remember the name though.

"Agent Gibbs," he greeted the lead agent respectfully. "I don't know all the details, but it appears that our suspect and the two agents assigned to guard him have been killed. A floor to floor search was ordered by the director upon finding the bodies. He caught up with the assassin in the garage which led to the explosion. Agent David is on the scene, she radioed in that she has the director secured."

"Is he hurt?" Palmer quickly asked, worry plain on his face and in his voice.

Gibbs frowned. He found it strange that Palmer worried this much about Vance. Actually, it was even stranger, that Vance was here in the hospital and apprehending suspects on his own. What had he been doing here? And where the hell was DiNozzo?

"I'm not sure. Agent David only said she got him but she did say she was going to escort him to the emergency room."

Palmer paled at that. "Please find out."

"No wait, what about DiNozzo?" Gibbs interrupted, worry gnawing at his gut. "Any word from him? Was he involved in the explosion?"

The Junior Agent looked at him oddly. "Like I said, Agent Gibbs, I don't know the exact status of Director DiNozzo, but I'll find out."

He left the room before Gibbs could say anything else. Which was okay, he seemed to have momentarily lost his ability to speak.

"Shit," Palmer muttered quietly, most likely not for Gibbs' ears. But there was nothing wrong with his hearing.

"_Director DiNozzo_?" Gibbs repeated incredulous. "I thought I was only out for a few hours?"

"Yeah, well, it's been a long few hours, Agent Gibbs," Palmer answered with a sigh.

"_Director_ DiNozzo?" repeated Gibbs.

"I think Tony would rather tell you himself how it came to that," Palmer said warily. "Besides, I've been with you the entire time, I don't know all that much."

"Start. Talking," Gibbs ordered, seething. His head pounded and he was really tired, but he refused to succumb to slumber before he knew every last detail of how his Senior Field Agent suddenly seemed to be director, and most importantly, what happened to him and if he was okay. And then he needed to rip the new director a new one for not mentioning any of this in the first place when he had been here, getting him up to speed.

* * *

><p>Anxiously, Ziva waited for the doctor to finish Tony's examination. She had refused to leave his side ever since seeing him blown away by the explosion and smashed against a column. It had literally stopped her heart, only starting to beat again once she had reached him and found his pulse, strong and steady beneath her fingers. He had been unconscious, but had responded to her calling his name over and over again eventually. Just long enough to order her to go after Tom, before once again losing consciousness.<p>

Of course she had stayed with him. Not just because he was Tony and he was hurt. No, as his detail it was her duty to stay with him, no matter what he told her to do. A lesson she should have learned years ago with Director Shepard, yet, today again, she had failed in her duty. She should have stayed with Tony, regardless of what he had said. If she had stayed with him, all this could most likely have been avoided. Either by convincing him to not go after the assassin himself or at least by going with him.

But she had broken the protocol and now Tony was hurt. They were lucky he hadn't been killed. It had been close. Too close. Again.

The doctor stepped back. "You have a concussion and bruised ribs, and your torso overall received enough trauma for us to be worried. We will admit you for the night ..."

"No."

"Director, your injuries may be not life threatening, but they still need to be taken seriously. They need to be treated and observed."

"I know my body, doctor. I was an athlete and I've been an officer of the law for twenty years now. I've dealt with concussions, broken and bruised ribs and pretty much every trauma you can come up with. I know my limits, I know how to take care of myself and I know my rights," Tony answered in a clipped voice. He had been in a foul mood ever since waking up in the emergency room, though Ziva doubted it had anything to do with the pain. "So bring me the AMA forms so I can get out of here and back to work."

The doctor's mouth thinned to a line. "As you wish. I will get the forms and the receipt for your ointment and pain killers."

Tony shook his head, impatiently. "I'll take the ointment, but no painkillers."

"Director ..."

"Save it," Tony stopped him right there. "Believe me, I've heard whatever you have to say before and it won't change my decision. No painkillers."

"Tony ..." Ziva tried to intervene, but got the same treatment as the doctor, only colder. "You stay out of this, Agent David. This is no concern of yours."

At the icy glare he gave her, Ziva bit her lip. "I am your partner ..."

"No. Right now I'm your boss, Agent David. You'd do well to finally realize and remember that." He dismissed her and turned back to the doctor. "The forms? Time is of the essence, Doctor, I really need to get back to work ASAP."

It was obvious that the doctor would have liked to say much more, but in the end he nodded and left the room at a crisp walk. Uneasy silence settled in the room. Tony refused to speak to Ziva. Or even acknowledge her, really. It hurt her; then again, she knew her partner could have quite a temper, even though he seldom let it show. After the day he had, and the pain he had to be feeling, she supposed he was entitled to be unhappy with pretty much the entire world. As long as he was alive to be angry with her, she was content.

The door opened, not to reveal the doctor with the forms but Agent Olsen, looking nervous. Not without reason.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be guarding Agent Gibbs. Did something happen to him? Was there a setback? Do they need me for anything?" Tony fired off, jumping up, regardless of his injuries.

Startled, Agent Olsen actually stepped back. "Uh, no, Sir, Agent Gibbs is fine. He sent me to check on you though."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "So you just leave your post and disobey a direct order from your director? Did you at least call for another agent to take over your guard?" He didn't wait for an answer, the blush in the junior agent's cheeks all he needed to know. Furious, he clenched his fingers. "Agent Olsen, you are aware that two of your colleagues have been killed not an hour ago while guarding a suspect? Right here, only a few rooms down from _this_ room?"

"Yes, Sir," the agent replied quietly.

"So what the hell are you thinking leaving your post and the patient unguarded? What the hell is the matter with you people? Did no one ever teach you the basic requirements for following orders, and protection details? Back to your post, Agent Olsen, now!"

Olsen cringed. "Yes, Sir." Still he hesitated. "What should I tell Agent Gibbs, Sir?"

Tony scowled. "Tell him I'm fine and to get some rest. I don't want you or anyone else to speak with him of the events that have occurred so far, understood? The only one who will tell him anything about what is going on is me, or someone I name."

Agent Olsen didn't look happy at all to have such a message to be carried back to Gibbs, but he left without another word. "Gibbs will not like that. It will most likely only agitate him more," Ziva cautiously said.

"I don't care. The man had thoracic surgery only a few hours ago. He needs rest, which he won't get if he worries about me or the situation at hand." Tony got up and grabbed his undershirt. As Ziva moved to help him get it on, he held her back with one seething glare. Frustrated, she backed off. Stubborn idiot! Clearly, he was hurting. Why wouldn't he let her help him?

"And how is he supposed to rest when he has no guarantee that you are indeed fine? You know him better than either of us. He will not be content with second hand information. Probably, his gut is already working overtime and he will not ignore it, regardless of his own condition," she pointed out.

With an angry huff, Tony swiveled around to face her. "It'll worry him even more to see me banged up like I am, guilt-ridden for having sent two good agents to their deaths, furious about my agents questioning or flat-out ignoring my orders and fueled by hate for Tom and his lunatic buddies."

"The deaths of Agents Matthew and Perth are not your fault, Tony," Ziva told him quietly.

"Oh yeah? You think they'd be dead if I hadn't ordered them to guard Armstrong?" Tony replied sarcastically. "I think not. My orders, my fault."

Before Ziva could answer, the door opened again, this time to reveal the doctor with the forms and the receipt. Tony took them, signed the forms, and handed them back, grabbing his jacket, badge and weapon. "Thank you for your help," he said to the doctor and left, depriving the doctor of the chance to warn him some more about the risks of leaving against medical advice. Ziva hurried after him.

Tony strode to their car, getting into the passenger's seat, much to Ziva's surprise - and concern. They had parked outside, so they had no problem leaving. When she set off in the direction of the Navy Yard, he shook his head. "No. Georgetown. We need to tell Matthew's wife that her husband and father of their five months old baby won't ever come home again."

Ziva was about to protest, but knew it would be futile. Besides, he was right. She would just prefer it had not to be Tony to have to notify Matthews wife. Again though, any such suggestions would fall on deaf ears. Tony's sense of duty would not let him delegate this heartbreaking task to anyone else.

All she could do now, was stay by his side and give whatever support she could.

* * *

><p>Telling Matthews' wife that her husband was dead had been one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life. It hadn't helped that his little girl had cried heartbreaking, angry tears the entire time, as if she had felt he had taken away her daddy. Her cries would haunt his dreams for a very long time.<p>

Agent Perth's parents lived on the west coast and he had to admit, he was relieved about that. At least he would not have to face them yet while telling them that their son was dead. Damn it. How could this have happened? Why hadn't he anticipated that Armstrong's friends would attempt to stop him from talking? He had only told his agents to watch him for suicide, not to watch out for an attack. Would it have made a difference?

Maybe. But it was too late for what ifs. His agents were dead and there was nothing he could do about that. The only thing he had to concentrate on was to make sure that they had at least not died in vain.

And to catch their killer and make him pay over and over again for taking their lives away from them.

His hands fisted. So close. He had been so close to having Tom. If it hadn't been for that fucking grenade! His eyes slid to Ziva and there was the rage again, that he felt ever since waking up in the ER to learn that she hadn't even attempted to go after Tom but instead had stayed with him, sending some of the guards after him instead. She would probably have caught Tom too if she had just for once followed his orders.

It was enough. No more. "Pull over."

"What?" Ziva looked at him, startled.

"Pull. Over." When she just continued to glance at him uncertainly, he hit the dashboard. "Now!"

Finally, she listened and pulled to the curb, stopping the vehicle. "Out," he ordered and leapt from the confines of the car. Impatiently, he waited until she was standing in front of him. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he swiveled them around and cornered her against the car. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

A frown appeared between her eyes. "I do not know what you mean?"

"Something's been off with you ever since the dock. You freeze, you space out and you're absolutely infuriating today with constantly either questioning or ignoring the orders I give you." It was hard to control himself, but he knew it was the only way to get anything out of the ex-Mossad agent. "It's one thing to argue with me in the office, but out in the field you do what I say, no hesitation, no questions. I'm your senior always and today, I'm also your boss. You have no place questioning me, let alone refusing to follow my orders. Damn it, Ziva, I really can't afford to suspend you right now, so this is your last chance. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you and if you can still do your job or you can drop me off at the office and go home and wait to see if you still _have _a job to return to after your suspension."

Her face closed off and she crossed her arms. "Nothing is wrong. I have done nothing but my duty. I processed scenes, took out two enemies, provided back-up, did research and protected you."

"No, Ziva. You were slow today, endangering your teammates, were unfocussed and distracted, diminished my authority by questioning me in front of others and by ignoring my order to go after Tom you let a suspect and the man who shot Gibbs and killed two of your colleagues get away," Tony corrected her through gritted teeth. "None of that was doing your job, let alone well."

"I am your bodyguard! You yourself reprimanded Agent Olsen for not staying put with Gibbs only an hour ago! My place was at your side, not chasing off after some perp and leaving you unprotected, unconscious and therefore unable to even protect yourself!" Ziva replied heatedly, uncrossing her arms, her hands clenched white.

Unintimidated, Tony stared down at her. "There were guards with you. They were perfectly able to guard me, but only you had a chance to catch up with Tom and arrest him."

She shook her head. "No, they were not adequate enough. I could not trust them with your safety, not after everything that happened today."

"That was _not _your call to make, David! I give you an order, you follow it. As simple as that. I'm the boss, you're the agent. I make the decisions, you execute them." He leaned down, his face only inches away from hers. "You don't get to choose which orders to follow or not."

But Ziva only glared back, even closing another inch or two to get right in his face. "Not when the order you give directly endangers your life. Jenny too ordered us off her detail and it cost her her life. You _know _that! Yet you foolishly demand exactly the same. But I will not make the same mistake again. This time I will not listen to any orders that endanger your safety. I will not let you throw away your life like that! Not on my watch."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Last time I checked, it's still my life, not yours. And I damn well decide when and in what measures I am prepared to risk it. You have no say in this, Ziva."

"Yes, I do," Ziva hissed, enraged, her dark eyes almost black with rage. "Your life is mine, hence it is in my right to do whatever it takes to ensure that you keep it."

"What?" Confused, Tony tried to make sense of her words, not following her logic. Ziva breathed out, looking away, a blush rising in her cheeks. With a deep frown, Tony turned her face so it faced him again. "Ziva? Explain."

Reluctantly, she met his eyes, almost defiant. "You told me in Somalia that you cannot live without me. Well, it came to my awareness lately, today especially, that I seem to no longer be able to live without you either. It is quite simple really. You live, I live. You die, I die."

And with that, Tony's world once again crashed.

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Hey guys! Back from holidays in Teneriffa with a brand new chapter. Gosh, I had <em>fun _writing this one and have been looking forward to it for a while. Hope you enjoyed it as much as me! Again, I can't thank you enough for the many wonderful reviews or alerts and favorites! It makes my day and gives me one hell of a motivation to work even harder on the next chapter. Hopefully, I'll have it soon, so you won't have to wait too long on Tony's reaction to Ziva's revelation - or what Gibbs has to say to his new director ... evil grin_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Tony had a hard time thinking, let alone speaking. Slowly, he let her go and stepped back, just staring at her in shock. She didn't move, just held his eyes and waited, showing no emotion. At least that was what most people would think, looking at her right now. But he wasn't normal people, so he had no problem seeing the vulnerability and uncertainty in her eyes. The nervousness. The hope. And the contempt.

At that he almost laughed. Almost. Shaking his head, he tried to make some sense of the chaos in his mind. And heart. Without much success. It was just too much. Why the fuck did she have to pick today of all days to drop this bombshell?

And just like that, all the confusion and shock he was feeling changed back to the rage he had felt before, but it was boiling this time. "_Now_, Ziva? Really? Three years, three fucking years and not one word from you, jeez, you even go and get engaged, and you pick now to say something? And not just something, no, of course not, no, you, you had to go all out and drop the bombshell of all bombshells."

Ziva's hands clenched. "I am sorry for that. It was not my intention to say anything. But you kept poking."

"So this is my fault?" he could only ask incredulous.

"No, of course not," she said quickly. "Well, you _did_ insist on foolishly risking your life again and again today, leaving me no choice but to face and admit to myself that you have become far more important to me than I ever wanted, to the point that your survival is now essential for my own survival and well-being. And then you kept demanding to know why I acted the way I have today, leaving me no choice but to tell you the truth. But you could not know what is in my head and I do know today is not ideal to start talking about this."

He felt the ridiculous urge to laugh but he was able to bite it back. Unbelievable. "What does this mean, Ziva? You can't live without me anymore - so what? You love me? You want a relationship? You want me off the team, again, so your precious focus is safe? Want me to disappear from your life, so whatever you feel right now, unwanted as it seems to be, can go away again? What, Ziva? What do you want me to say or do now?"

She said nothing, but there was the tiniest flinch. He refused to feel guilty for that. Damn it, he was entitled to be furious with her. "What? Suddenly you've got nothing to say anymore?"

She raised her shoulders. "I think I have said all that needed to be said."

"You ... I ... Ziva ... _Fuck_!" he stopped his speechless stuttering, running with his hands through his hair. He turned away, too angry to even look at her. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He wasn't even sure what he wanted to do with this new information; how could he know what was the proper reaction to something like this? It took him several moments of angry deep breathing before he came to a decision. Kind of. Straightening, he shook vehemently his head, still keeping his back to her, not trusting himself to not lose control again the moment his eyes fell back on her. "No," he said.

Behind him, there was a sharp intake of breath, as if something had hit her. Still he refused to look at her again. "No?"

Was that panic in her voice? No! No, he could not deal with any of this right now.

"Tony, what does this mean?"

Yeah, there was definitely desperation in her voice. He tried to harden himself against it, but in the end, he couldn't bring himself to simply ignore her pleading question. "No, we're not dealing with this right now, we're not talking about it and we sure as hell don't make any decisions until we have this nightmare behind us. In case you have forgotten, Agent David, we are on the brink of a devastating terrorist attack, have a murderer to catch and ten kidnapped people to find, among them our director." He nodded to the car. "Get back in, SecDef is waiting to talk to me. I'll assign you to Keller, you can help him try to find our missing people. But you're off the protection detail and off any mission where I am in the field."

"What? Keller? You hate Keller! You cannot take me off your team!"

This time he did look at her. "Oh yeah, I can and I do. In your state of mind I can't trust you in the field, as today and especially this last mess showed clearly. You endanger not just yourself and me, but also McGee and every other agent that is out with us. Like said, I can't really afford to lose yet another agent, so I'm willing to give you another chance. But it's your choice, Ziva. It's either my terms and my orders or you can leave your badge and gun with me and go home. So what will it be, Agent David?"

She fumed and stalked around the car to get back into the driver's seat. For a moment he considered calling a cab, not really wanting to be this close to this absolutely infuriating Israeli women right now. But SecDef, Agent Perth's parents, an unpleasant talk with Fornell and a thousand other things were waiting for him in the office, and he had no time to lose. As it was, he had already delayed too long. SecDef had already reamed him out over the phone shortly after he had woken up in the hospital and probably hadn't appreciated being told he'd get back to him once he was back in the office and then being hung up on. Like he'd said, he'd been furious at that moment, his head pounding and his body aching pretty much all over.

He'd be lucky if SecDef didn't fire him. Maybe he could blame the concussion for his inexcusable behavior. Then again, he never liked blaming any shortcomings of his on his physical condition.

Snorting, he got in the car and it was as bad as he had thought it would be, with Ziva silently fuming and general awkwardness. He still had nothing to say to her, so he didn't try to fill the uncomfortable silence.

That was, until he could no longer bear it. "And since when did you decide to take on the habit of not following orders, anyway? Wasn't it you who told me years ago that we follow orders, that's what we do?"

"Like you said, that was years ago. Now, I know better and have learned, by bitter experience, that blindly following orders only ends in getting you screwed over," she responded, taking a sharp turn, her eyes not leaving the road. "You in particular taught me to question the orders I am given."

Well, damn, he guessed he actually did that. Then again ... "Then I did a poor job of it. Because if you had really watched, you'd have learned that although there is a place and time to question orders, it sure as hell isn't the field! And, it makes a difference who gives you the order. But of course, since day one you've questioned and challenged my judgment, decisions and orders, so why am I even surprised?" He shook his head and stared out the window.

It was true enough. Their first undercover mission, the container, the hostage situation at the school, his time as team lead - every single time she had to contradict and oppose him. It was no big deal, it was nothing new and he could deal with it. Hell, sometimes it even helped. Still, it hadn't made his job or life any easier and just sometimes he wished she could have simply followed his lead, no questions, no hesitation.

Was that really too much to ask?

"I do trust you, Tony. You have to know that," she said quietly, but with intensity.

At least she didn't deny it. He sighed, running his hands over his face. Trouble was, he knew she did. Just not with everything. Or most of the time. God, he was tired. He should have just kept his mouth closed, as unbearable as the uneasy silence had been, this was an even worse idea. So he didn't answer and Ziva too fell silent again.

The silence stretched between them until Ziva pulled into the parking lot in the Navy Yard garage. He'd rarely been so relieved to reach their destination, Ziva driving or not. He was out of the car even before she had turned off the motor, heading with long strides towards the steps. He had too much pent-up energy he needed to get rid of before confronting SecDef. Besides, he didn't want to chance Ziva getting into the elevator with him. The more space between them the better. Maybe then he could concentrate again, get his head straight.

"Tony!"

All he wanted was to ignore her. But there was something in her voice that made him halt, his hand already on the door to push it open, his back towards her.

"Please, just tell me - am I too late? Have I waited too long?"

For once her voice was small, hesitant, even anxious. Closing his eyes, he sighed. Part of him wanted to say yes. He had moved on, accepted that there could never be more than partnership between them. Hadn't he? "I don't know, Ziva," he said honestly. He hesitated for a brief moment allowing himself a long, deep inward look. Everything was so confusing, so tangled, emotions warring inside him. But was it really a yes? Without doubt? "No," he finally whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him. Then he slammed the iron gate back on his emotions and pushed the door open.

* * *

><p>Working with NCIS had always been an interesting, albeit exhausting and more than once exasperating experience for Fornell. And, he had to admit, some twisted and weird kind of fun. Keeping up with Gibbs' quick mind while at the same time having to keep an eye on him so he wouldn't go and do something completely against the rules had always been challenging, not that Fornell minded. He liked challenges. So over all, he had been pretty sure he knew the deal with joint operations with NCIS by now. But boy, he could throw his mental manual right out of the window with DiNozzo leading their sister agency. Things weren't just interesting, they were to be downright marveled at. The exhausting experience was taken to a whole new level. Exasperation turned to annoyance. And if keeping up with Gibbs was a challenge, then keeping up with DiNozzo was an almost impossible and hazardous nightmare.<p>

He couldn't decide if it was a nightmare because DiNozzo was - well, DiNozzo, or because the boy managed to attract more trouble and conflict than an atomic weapon in North Korea. Oh, and he was unpredictable. Off he went to hold the hands of distraught wives, ended up in an explosion and came back all banged up, having pissed off apparently pretty much every last person he had crossed, including SecDef, and with a mood that was so foul, a body rotting away for three months in a small box in the heat would have had a better time.

He didn't know the young man well enough to have any idea how to handle him in such a mood. Normally, he would have just let him stew and growl and cool down, no such luck this time. As soon as DiNozzo had finished his not very friendly talk with SecDef, he had summoned Fornell into his office, where he was pacing now, throwing dark looks around as he listened to what they'd learned and achieved during his absence. Or better said, their _lack_ of any progress.

It was really disconcerting. The information on Balance remained scarce. While they'd found more traces and hints of the group, there was nothing concrete enough to be able to pin down either their intents or their whereabouts. They had found more people registered in ESTA that could be linked to the group, judging from the pattern of names and origin, but they lacked proof and tracking them down would have taken time they didn't have. McGee and Sciuto had yet to break the encryption of the confiscated hardware, and they'd had no luck with narrowing down the possible targets. There were just too many possibilities that they simply couldn't cover and investigate thoroughly in the time they had. At least the NCIS teams had been able to identify the minibus that most likely was used to transport their bosses and track it through various video feeds for a few miles. But then they'd lost the vehicle and so far had yet to find it again. Also, the windows had been tinted and the number plate covered, so they had little information to go on. And they were still looking into where Balance could have gotten the pestis bacteria.

While they had their only suspect murdered, along with two of their own.

All good reasons for DiNozzo to be in the state he was in; still, Fornell couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else that had riled the new director up this much. Or someone. The possibilities were numerous. Most obvious would be encountering again the same person that had shot Gibbs, killed Armstrong and the two NCIS agents, only to have him escape again. _After_ blowing DiNozzo up. Then it could be Gibbs. Fornell had been relieved to hear his old rival had woken up. But with everything that had happened, and as he had heard the muzzle his SFA had ordered on everyone, he expected to hear from him soon, and spitting mad for sure. Despite everything, Fornell couldn't help a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth at that thought. He'd rather eat nails than to admit it, but he looked forward to that talk. And last but certainly not least, there was the lovely and equally deadly Agent David. He had noticed they hadn't come in together. And, the Israeli woman seemed to be both angry and frustrated. Not unlike her partner.

He sighed. He had never been a big fan of Gibbs' famous rules, but he had to admit that at least some of them were useful, if not necessary. Rule twelve was one of them. Now was not the time to have whatever issues DiNozzo had with his partner get in the way. The boy needed a clear head, now more than ever.

Maybe he should say something. Then again, DiNozzo wasn't his agent. Nor did they share any particular relationship close enough for it to be his place. Besides, he figured the kid deserved the chance to get his head straight on his own. Yeah, unless DiNozzo seemed likely to mess up because of his screwed focus, he'd just stay out of it.

"Hey! You even heard a word I said?"

Fornell blinked, jerking out of his thoughts. "What?"

"Damn it, Fornell, focus!" DiNozzo barked. Having come to a stop in front of him sometime in the last few moments, he was glaring down at him. "You're the only one I can trust in this mess. I need you two hundred percent on the job, not spacing out on me when we're discussing a major security break."

There were a lot of emotions and thoughts flickering through his head. But Fornell concentrated on the last one. "Security break?"

"The mole?" DiNozzo asked, incredulous.

A cold shiver ran down Fornell's spine. "Mole?" What the hell? Just how long had he spaced out for?

"The mole," DiNozzo repeated tiredly, falling into the seat beside Fornell, rubbing his hands over his face, the fingers lingering at his temples. "There are _no_ coincidences. I was willing to let it slide that they somehow knew of that damn conference when none of us knew. Even that they knew Shelley's address. They could have watched the directors, hacked their PDAs, bugged them. Difficult, but not impossible. Hell, they most likely did all that. But we can't ignore what happened at the hospital - there's no way they could pull that off without inside help."

Fornell swallowed, and it left a stale taste in his mouth. "Not necessarily. Like you said, they could still be watching us. Or maybe Armstrong had a tracker on him." But even as he said it, he knew how unlikely that was.

"I told Ducky to look for one, but I seriously doubt it. You weren't in that exam room, Fornell. Tom didn't just know where they were exactly, no, he knew when they would be there, how many agents were with Armstrong and oh yeah, Tommyboy congratulated me on my promotion." DiNozzo looked around his new office with disdain. "We haven't given out any press releases, there was no time for official paperwork to be filed anywhere where it could be hacked. No one could have anticipated it. Shit, it only happened a few hours ago. There's no way Tom could have known about all of this unless someone in this joint operation was feeding it to him."

Fornell didn't want DiNozzo's words and conclusions to make sense, but he was no blind fool either. "So how do we flush the little bastard out?"

"Hell if I know," the kid muttered, the exhaustion creeping up to him. "We've got a couple hundred suspects between the five agencies and the White House."

Fornell frowned deeply, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "SecDef and Attorney General on the list too?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "There are seven people of whom I can say without any doubt that they are not the mole. Anyone else is a suspect." He scowled. "Though I'm pretty sure it's someone pretty high up. They've been planning this for years, they had the time to place someone strategically in our ranks."

Thinking about that, Fornell matched the boy's scowl. "We need to keep all sensitive data between us. The others won't like that. Not to speak of the White House."

"No. Maybe we can feed them each different information. So when Balance acts on it, we know where we have our mole," DiNozzo suggested. "Honestly though, I can't see how we can stop the attack and find our bosses when we can't be honest with each other. And with all the lives at stake, I'm not sure I'm willing to take that risk. On the other hand, if we don't find the mole, fast, it doesn't matter what we achieve, they'll always be a step ahead."

"We could also face multiple traitors. As you said, they had years to prepare this. If I were them, I wouldn't have concentrated my efforts just on one agency," Fornell added, darkly.

DiNozzo nodded. "Maybe we should get Kort in on this."

As his mind came to a screeching halt, Fornell stared at Gibbs' boy, incredulous. "Don't tell me he's one of those seven people or I'll send you straight back to the hospital to admit yourself. Either for that concussion or to the one with rooms with padded walls." He had done the math on the spot. It wasn't that hard. The seven people had to be Gibbs' extended team - and him. A sign of trust Fornell felt oddly touched by. He had listened for years to the boy's boss bitch about the kid's trust issues, so he knew exactly how much it meant for him to be included on that list. Though he was pretty sure it was more because he was already on Gibbs' list of people he trusted, at least to some extent, that he got that honor. And he felt inexplicably proud of it.

"God, no. I know exactly how far we can trust the bastard and that's not even as far as you can throw him. But I also know to just what length he'd go for his mission and that's the problem. I just can't see him being a member of a group like Balance. In his twisted way, he loves his country and his job. He wouldn't risk it, not like that," DiNozzo elaborated.

Fornell had to admit, he couldn't see Kort as the mole either. Not out loud though. Gibbs would annoy him to hell and back if he encouraged the boy too much.

DiNozzo probably mistook his silence, judging from his next words. "I'll have McGee pull his phone records first, that way we still have some time to decide if we want to allow him in. For now let's stick to McGee, Ducky and Abby to be the only ones we talk this over or work on it with."

Fornell couldn't help himself. He raised an eyebrow. "And David?"

DiNozzos face went black. "I've assigned her to Keller's team for the time being. But I'll tell her to keep her eyes and ears open, maybe she'll notice something."

Huh. That was unexpected. Then again, if he'd been right with his earlier assumption, maybe not so much. His musings were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Checking the caller ID and seeing the unfamiliar number, he suppressed a smile. That had taken longer than he had anticipated. He answered it. "Talk."

"My room. Now. Bring coffee." The line went dead and holding back a roll of the eyes, Fornell flipped his phone shut, standing up. "Getting some coffee," he told DiNozzo, who had been watching the short exchange with interest. "Wadda ya want?"

"Black, but with hazelnut cream and lots of sugar," DiNozzo answered with a grin. "And a donut would be nice. Chocolate..."

Fornell grunted with disgust, but moved to the door without a comment.

"Toby?" DiNozzo waited until Fornell glared back at him, still sporting that grin. "Tell Gibbs hi. And remind him of Rule eleven. The job's done for him. And remember, he's supposed to rest. No details, no sitrep, no shoptalk. Got it?"

Fornell contemplated the steel behind the grin for a moment. Should have known he couldn't fool the kid. He was too much like his boss for his own good. "Gotchya. You know, he's not the only one who needs some rest." He left, satisfied that he had at least gotten the last word in.

* * *

><p>Tim didn't understand his world anymore. This morning, everything had been normal, now he had no team leader, a new director, at least temporarily, hadn't seen the exterior of the Navy Yard for hours and most likely wouldn't anytime soon because he still hadn't been able to break the encryption, and wasn't even close. And if that wasn't all overwhelming enough, now something must have happened between his teammates too, because both were in a foul mood, refusing to talk about it and Tony wouldn't have taken Ziva off his protection detail and reassigned her to another team until further notice unless whatever had happened, had been <em>big<em>.

When Tony had informed him that Ziva was reassigned, he had tried to ask why, only getting Tony's back as he walked away from him as his only answer. And when Ziva had come back, obviously in an emotional turmoil of anger, hurt, sadness and anxiety, he had carefully tried to get to the bottom of just why she was in this state, only to be glared at and having her too only stomp away from him.

He didn't like it. As if it wasn't bad enough that the boss was in the hospital and they didn't even have Tony as team-lead because he had been promoted right away from them. Now they had to go and uproot the team even more! Good, maybe they'd settle their fight as they usually did, Heaven knew they bickered, teased or outright fought most of the time. Yet, this felt different. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he was convinced that whatever had happened between them had been of a nature that could change everything.

Making a face, he groaned. Abby would go nuts once she got wind of this and he simply hadn't the time to calm her down. Nor did he enjoy lying to her. But what choice did he have when she wouldn't listen to reason? She had outright refused to believe that Tony being promoted to director, however temporary that may be, would have any consequences on their team. Tim couldn't say that he understood much of the politics going on, not anymore, but he knew enough to know that Tony had been ready for his own team for a long time now. Sure, he and Ziva liked to keep his ego in check because, well, he simply would be insufferable if he knew just how highly they really thought of him, but they both knew that it was by Tony's own choice that he still was only their SFA and nothing more. He knew of at least two promotions Tony had declined in order to stay with them and suspected there were more. You just had to listen to other team-leaders and senior agents to know that Tony was actually high on demand for many teams, in- and outside of NCIS.

Knowing all that, Tim was pretty sure that if Tony did his director's job halfway acceptably, of which he had no doubts whatsoever, he couldn't save himself from job offers afterwards. And this time, he doubted they would leave him much choice. Even if they did, it would be career suicide to not take a promotion.

Not that Tim wanted Tony to go. He wasn't so egotistical as to _want_ to deal with Gibbs, Ziva and Abby on his own. He didn't know how Tony could so easily keep each of them in check, _and_ be there for all of them pretty much twenty-four/seven; he just knew that he wasn't cut out for that seemingly unmanageable job. Over the years, he had gotten enough of a taste of how it would be without Tony there to have realized that with a sinking feeling that left a bad taste in his mouth. There had been vacations, missions and of course sick leaves during which Tim had had to step in as temporary SFA. The first few times he had been proud and eager to be able to show his capabilities. He had honestly thought it wouldn't be much of a job. After all, with Tony, it looked so easy. Boy, had he been wrong. After the first time he had been exhausted and bone tired after two weeks of being SFA, but he had thought he had done a good job. Until Gibbs had ripped him a new one for doing only half of what Tony apparently usually did and Tony complaining for weeks about having to redo some of the forms and written reports Tim had filed during his absence.

Yeah, that had been no fun. Over the years he had gotten better at it, but he knew now that he still had a long way to go. The work in itself was one thing, but being the first in line to receive the brunt of Gibbs' moods ... Tim shuddered at the mere thought of it. He understood now why Gibbs had had a long list of agents who had come and gone from his team before Tony had come along, and why some of those agents still went the other way the moment they spotted Gibbs. If they needed something from the MCRT, they went to Tony. And it wasn't just them. Dispatch, Personnel, Recovery, Requisition, LEOs - they all always went to Tony first, only dealing with Gibbs directly as a last resort.

So he really had no interest in losing Tony to promotion. And if Ziva had just given him yet another reason to not stay with them, then he'd be seriously pissed.

"You broke that encryption already?"

Startled out of his somber musings, his head shot up to see Agent Kort standing in front of his desk, scowling nastily. Even if that man hadn't been responsible for setting up Tony and blowing not only his cover but also planting a bomb in his car, letting them believe Tony was dead, even if it only was for a short time, Tim doubted he would have found him ever in any way pleasant. As it was, Trent Kort was high on his own personal shit list and having him talking down to him like this rubbed him all the wrong way. His back stiffening, he forced himself to remain polite. "Not yet, no. Whoever encrypted those laptops was very good."

"If you can't do it, don't waste our time and let those do it who know how to," Kort told him with a sneer.

Blustering, Tim felt hot white rage surge through his veins. But before he could open his mouth to give the bastard a piece of his mind, a very tight, controlled voice intervened.

"Special Agent McGee is the only person within all our agencies who has the skills to break that encryption in any useful time, as I'm sure you are well aware, Agent Kort," Tony said almost casually, moving to stand between Tim and the CIA operative, towering over the other man with more than just height. "Harassing him unnecessarily will only cost us all even more precious time."

Kort smiled derisive. "Of course you protect him. After all, he's your little - what do you Navy cops call it? Oh yeah, _probie_. But will you also take the blame when this goes down the drain because you didn't have the balls to reassign this vital part of the investigation to someone truly capable of breaking that encryption instead of favoring your sidekick? Or is this where the friendship ends?"

Tony just grinned. "For a spook, you surely have your intel all wrong. McGee, have I ever not told you when you screwed up?"

Glaring at Kort, Tim just snorted.

"Or covered up for you when you messed up?" Tony asked, his grin widening.

Noticing that by now, every eye in the bullpen was on them, Tim shook again his head. "I wish."

"And Agent Keller," Tony called out the one agent who usually never had one good word to say about Tony, eyes staying on Kort though the entire time. "Would our team-leader ever accept me going easy on my probies or ignoring their failures, let alone cover them up?"

Glancing over to the section where Keller and his team were, Tim thought the stern team leader looked as if he had bitten into something acid, but he shook his head. "Never."

"As you hear, Agent Kort, your worries, while appreciated -" Wow, Tim hadn't thought it was possible for sarcasm to be delivered such politely, let alone coming from Tony, "- are fortunately unfounded. However," Tony's voice lost all trace of politeness or sarcasm, turning to ice, "if you have a problem or any doubts with me or one of my agents, you come to me. You know where my office is. We'll talk about it in private. _You_ don't get to criticize my people at all, let alone in front of the whole world."

"Or what?" Kort asked back, amused.

Tony just smiled. Not one of his famous smiles. No, this one had nothing remotely to do with charm or humor. This was the kind of smile he gave scumbags that held a gun into his face and made them still back away involuntarily. Even Tim felt the power and terror of that particular smile send a cold shower down his back. Kort didn't back down, Tim had to give him that. But he sure as hell lost his irritating nonchalance and confidence, frowning at Tony.

Their new director held the CIA agent's eyes until Kort finally averted his. Only then did he look around. "Okay everyone, show's over. It's been a long day and you've all done excellent work. But you'll be no good to me tomorrow when you're all on the verge of exhaustion. Each team separates in half. One half stays on their assignment. The other half goes and rests. Shift of three hours. Sit rep at 0600." The agents exchanged glances. Tony waved. "Go."

The order was unmistakable. While the leaders gathered their teams to arrange the shifts, Tony's gaze wandered back to Kort. The pissed off CIA agent opened his mouth, no doubt to loudly disagree once again. But to Tim's surprise he closed his mouth once more and went away with a huff. Only then did Tony relax, though Tim doubted anyone outside their team would have noticed it. "You too, McGee. I assume your program's running?" Tim nodded, but before he could say something, Tony continued. "Then you team up with Abby. I know you won't leave to go home, but make sure you both get some shut-eye on her mat."

There was a lot Tim wanted to say. He settled on the most important. "What about you? You need rest too." He frowned, worriedly taking in Tony's tired features, the heavy bruises on his face, and the slight slump in the way he held himself that reminded him of the times Tony had hurt his ribs. "Probably more than any of us. You could take the shift with Abby. She'll rest easier with you there, you know that." It was the truth and for once it didn't even make him gag to admit it. Besides, that argument might just help convince Tony.

But of course the stubborn idiot just chuckled. "I'm fine, McMom. If I need I can get some downtime in my brand new borrowed office." Predictable… although Tony didn't roll his eyes which convinced Tim that he had to suffer one hell of a killer headache. But before he could insist further, Tony glanced at his computer. "That program of yours managing to get in anytime soon?"

Tim's first reaction was to be offended. Then he remembered that Tony just had had his six in front of everyone and anyway was too tired to haze him. And not to forget, this was his director. "I think so." Tony looked at him, eerily adopting one of Gibbs' silent stares. "It'll be in by morning," Tim corrected himself, sounding more sure than he felt.

Tony smiled faintly, slapping him on the shoulder. "Never had a doubt, Tim."

Inadvertedly, McGee felt an almost ridiculous pride blossom in his chest.

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long, but another bunny occupied my mind. The stupid thing was supposed to be a one-shot - in the end I had six chapters. Hmpf. Well, I hoped you liked this one and I didn't disappoint. Loved all your comments on the last chapter and that little bomb Ziva dropped on him. We have now a little downtime until we move on to the showdown and wrap-up. So stay tuned, now that I have that other story out of my system, the next chapter shouldn't take that long. Also, that other story is going to hit the new page soon, with lots and lots of troubled Tony and Gibbs trying to sort him out. <em>


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

After having sent half of his agents to go get some rest, Tony made his way wearily back up to Vance's office. He hated to admit it, but his probie and Fornell were right: he needed some rest himself. Damn injuries. Normally his body wouldn't betray him that fast, letting him go for a day or two without sleep with no problem. But the combination of stress, worry, various adrenaline surges, taking a round to the chest and oh yeah, getting blown up, had eaten up most of his reserves, leaving him exhausted, both in body and mind.

One good look at him and Ducky would probably take it upon himself to slip him a mild sedative to force him to rest. That was why he'd sent Tim to tell the ME to call it a night and go home.

Entering the ante room, he frowned. "I told you to go to your kids and not come back 'til morning."

Shelley looked up. "And I told you that as long as you're here, I'll stay too."

"You don't have to do this, Shelley," Tony sighed. Sometimes, saving someone's live wasn't as glamorous as it was made out to be in the movies. Take the part with the gratitude; they got _that_ downright wrong. Mostly, it was just a nuisance. It got especially tacky when you knew the victim. "You owe me nothing. But your kids ..."

"Would be dead if it wasn't for you. So would I. So yeah, I owe you big time," Shelley interrupted him, giving him that glare all mothers seemed to have down to a notch. "But that's not why I stay. You're my boss, and since I wouldn't leave Director Vance here to fend everything off on his own in this crisis, I won't leave you, Director. You worry about that terrorist group and concentrate on finding that bomb and our director. I take care of the scuttlebutt. That's my job."

Tony was about to protest but held back, instead combing through his memories. Now that he thought about it, he could remember that Shelley had always been here at her desk when they had a hot case on their hands, deflecting unwanted visitors and making it hell to get to Vance for anyone who didn't really need to. He scrunched up his face. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

Shelley smiled widely. "No chance in hell."

Tony nodded. "Thanks," he said sincerely.

Her gaze softened. "Use the couch and get some sleep. I'll send everyone the other way. I ordered a pizza. It's on your desk."

He wasn't really hungry, but he smiled anyway. "Marry me."

She chuckled, waving a finger at him. "Now you be careful, Tony, or I might just say yes. And then who would we have left to vote for being the most eligible bachelor?"

He snorted. "That would indeed be tragic. Then again, place _nine_? Doesn't look as if my many qualities are as appreciated as they should be. Seriously. Place nine is one thing but Tim McGee on place one and Gibbs on seven? You sure you didn't forget my name on half of the voting lists?"

Shelley held up her hands. "Hey, don't look at me. I voted for you."

"Looks like you were the only one," he sighed. It nagged at him, he had to admit. Not so much that he wasn't higher up; more that he had barely made it onto the list. Besides, it wasn't just the list. Often lately, while the flirting itself worked just fine in his opinion, the times he did try to take it further, it had been to no avail. As if the women didn't mind a little flirting with him, but anything above that didn't interest them. Was he losing his charm? Was he getting too old to still do it for the female half of the population? He had thought it wasn't so bad yet, but now this list had him questioning that. If his charm had lost its power, how was he supposed to do his job? His professional success wasn't based solely on his charm, but it wasn't irrelevant either. Shit, who was he kidding? A lot of the information he gathered was thanks to his ability to charm the pants off pretty much everyone. Without that, he wasn't sure how to keep doing his job. The thought scared him, which he blamed afterwards for asking his next question. "Why then? Did I lose my sex appeal?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his cheeks redden furiously. God! He could only hope this never got around to Tim and Ziva. He'd never live it down. He blanched. Or Gibbs. In that case, the ground could just open right now and swallow him, saving him the trouble of shooting himself.

Shelley laughed, her eyes sparkling. But then she calmed down to a smile that only held fondness. "Oh, believe me, you don't have to worry about that. Not at all." She studied him for a moment, before she continued softly. "Tony, the only reason you scored such a scandalous ninth place was because most female employees on the yard are under the impression that you may be still single on paper, but otherwise, you're all spoken for and off the market for good."

Oh. Frowning deeply, Tony stared at her open mouthed. "But ... How'd they figure that, for Heaven's sake? I flirt all the time! Just last week I asked the new gal in Evidence out. Why would I do that if I were committed?"

"Because you may flirt, but everyone can see your heart isn't in it. Not for anything more than a bit of fun. Hasn't been for a long time," Shelley answered gently, as if she was explaining something obvious to one of her kids. "And you only ask girls out who'll hardly say yes. Like Gail. I'm sure, even if it's not an open secret, you knew perfectly well Gail's playing for the other team when you asked her out for show."

That shut him up. Okay, yeah, he had noticed the looks Gail was giving Abby; the way she was reduced to a stutter whenever his best friend came within a few feet of Evidence. Knowing that NCIS wasn't much better than the rest of the military in that regard, he thought it couldn't hurt helping her out a little. Unfortunately Gail had thought he really wanted to date her and turned him down flat. He left it at that, just made sure to let every one know that she was hard to get. It would keep the rumor mill going for a while, maybe long enough for the girl to get over her crush.

Looking at his feet, he asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to. "And who is supposed to be the lucky lady that caught me?"

Shelley just gave him a mordant look. Yeah. He thought so. That would explain his lack of luck lately.

As if reading his mind, Shelley chuckled. "You can't blame them not wanting to even tempt fate. No one here is particularly keen on being impaled by a paper clip."

He nodded sharply, not wanting to continue this conversation. It was too close to what had happened earlier on with his partner and he desperately tried not to think about that. Or her. Or worse, _them_. No. Firmly, he pushed every treacherous thought away and locked it into the same part of his mind where Ziva's bombshell was already simmering.

Thanking Shelley again, he moved to Vance's office. And stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he looked back at the assistant. "Uh, Shelley? There appears to be a mountain of files on the desk."

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. I took care of as much of the paperwork as I could, but I'm afraid, these require your signature or decision."

He involuntarily shivered, looking back at the piles and piles of paperwork. "Can't they wait? I mean, we're a little busy here."

"Only if you want your agents not to receive their salaries or go out into the field without the proper equipment. And there are also a few operations running that have been in preparation for months if not years, that need your attention for final go." Shelley looked at him with sympathy, but also confident expectation. "I filtered everything out that's not a priority for the moment, Sir."

That she called him the formal 'Sir' shook him out of his stupor, reminding him that he had a job to do. So much for him getting rest. "Of course. I'll get them back to you as soon as I can." Then he fled into the office and shut the door, staring miserably at the paperwork awaiting him.

_Sir._

God, how he hated to be called that left and right ever since having been nominated director a.i.. Even before he had met Gibbs he held no fondness for that form of address. Recipients seldom deserved it. Actually, Gibbs was the best proof that those who did deserve it, didn't care for it; only impostors and weak men needed to be called Sir constantly. His Dad had always insisted on it, even from his only son. That said it all, didn't it? So when he had met Gibbs and got his standard response the first time he called him Sir, he had known immediately that he would never regret coming to work for the gruff man.

And he hadn't. Sure, there was a lot he'd regretted in the time he had worked here, but never that he worked for Gibbs. And like his boss, he refused to be called Sir. Until today. The first few times he had wanted to tell whoever had addressed him to can it, to just call him Agent DiNozzo. Problem was, he _was_ the Sir now. The Sir who sat behind a desk, because taking care of the most urgent paperwork took up hours and if he didn't do it, those working for him wouldn't get their hard earned money, or they'd be left with faulty equipment in the field that could kill them. The Sir that was stuck in the office, or if he was lucky MTAC, while his agents were out in the field, risking their lives on a daily basis. He knew that Sirs were needed too. And having been in Vance's shoes for almost a day now, he could even admit that it was important work. But _he_ was no Sir. He was an agent, damn it, and he was happy to be one 'til the end of his days.

And there lay the real problem, didn't it? Tony could deal with the responsibility that came with his new position, if he kept his temper even with the politics and heck, paperwork was paperwork, nothing new there. He could even admit that doing this job had its perks. He'd never been one to accept authority easily or follow orders blindly. To be the one in charge now, with only the White House to answer to - he could get used to that. But the confinement to the office, not being able to go out into the field anymore without a fucking protection detail following him around 24/7 - that he couldn't deal with. Not for a prolonged time. Not day in, day out. He needed to be in the field, needed the air, the adrenaline kick, the diversity, the unexpected. Needed a well oiled team he could trust blindly to always have his six and be his family.

It was why he'd turned down every promotion or job offer he got since working for Gibbs. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind taking over his own team. Like he said, he liked to be in charge and although until this point he'd never admitted it to anyone, including himself, he was getting restless and tired of being merely a Senior Field Agent. Also, he knew that McGee had been ready for a promotion for a while now, as had Ziva. As long as he was Gibbs' second though, unless they moved on to another team, they were stuck in their current position. None of them minded much, because for them, like him, this team was family. A much needed one, as no-one but Tim had anyone who deserved to be called family left.

So he'd stayed, because he didn't want to leave his family. He still didn't want to. Once this was over though, he wasn't sure they'd let him stay. Either he fucked this operation up, and then he'd be fired or sent somewhere he could do no further harm so fast he wouldn't even have time to pack his things, or he did a good job and would most likely get a promotion. If he was lucky they would give him a choice about it but even then - turning it down yet again would kill any chance he had left for a career.

He could maybe live with it himself - but could he live with blocking McGee and Ziva too? Ziva. Now, there was a mountain of a reason to actually take a possible promotion. He wasn't sure they could still work together, no matter which way they decided to go, once they faced today's revelations.

Angrily, he shook his head. Took a deep breath. This was no use. He could deal with the fallout from this mess once it was all over. His pizza was getting cold. And that mass of files wouldn't magically do itself. Maybe the monotony of going through them all would give him some much needed inspiration for the actual case. Wouldn't be the first time. Focusing on something boring helped him to let his mind go wild about the case he really wanted to solve. It allowed him to boldly go into the unexplored land.

Sighing, he sat down heavily in his chair. Boy, he really was tired if he was approaching the bedlam of the great universe of Star Trek already. Opening the pizza box, he grabbed the first file and leaned back, eating a first slice while he started to read.

* * *

><p>The hospital was deserted apart from the night staff. Seeing Fornell striding down the corridor, more than one of them was about to stop him, until they saw the glare he sent their way. So he managed to get to Gibbs' room undeterred. Nodding at the NCIS agent guarding the door, showing him his badge, he entered, a wave of trepidation coming over him. He wasn't sure he was ready to see whatever state his old colleague was in. They were both bastards, no question about that, but heck, they were friends as well. Sort of. Neither of them would ever admit to that though. Actually, they would be both very quick to insist on their mutual dislike. And that wouldn't be wrong either. Most of the time, Gibbs was an insufferable man and a nightmare to work with.<p>

Then again, if Fornell needed someone he could trust absolutely and completely, he always knew where to go. And though he'd seldom come to collect, it was an unspoken truth that Gibbs trusted him as well.

Hardening himself, he stepped further into the room. Palmer was sleeping soundly in a chair by the window but the patient in the bed was looking back at him with surprising clear and wide awake blue eyes. He saw one hand disappear beneath the covers before coming out again, empty, and smiled. Coming to a stop, he looked him up and down. "Couldn't you just have taken some vacation days to get your old bones some rest?"

The eyes narrowed to blue lasers. Instead of bothering to honor that with a response, Gibbs held out the hand that had disappeared under the covers, demanding his coffee without a word. Because Fornell actually wanted to see Emily grow up, he followed the order without any further teasing. Waiting while the coffee addict inhaled his drug of choice, he took the time to give him a more thorough once over. Gibbs was pale and the lines of pain and exhaustion in his face were unmistakable; yet, he couldn't say the former marine was looking weak. Not as strong as usual, but not weak either. Fornell rolled his eyes. Not even when he was sick could the man do like every one else. Seeing that the cup he had given him was already empty, he exchanged it for the second - and last - cup he had brought along. While Gibbs was busy gulping that one too, he went to drag a second chair up to the bed and sat down, waiting.

Gibbs leveled his eyes at him. "Talk."

He glanced at the young, still sleeping medical examiner. "What do you know already?" He knew Palmer and DiNozzo were friends but he also knew Gibbs. There was no way the lead agent hadn't already learned much more than DiNozzo ever wanted him to know.

"Enough to know that I need to hear more."

"So not very much," Fornell stated, not able to help his amused smile. Maybe he had underestimated the young ME.

Gibbs scowled. "I know that everyone is suddenly calling my SFA director. They said Vance's not dead or hurt, so I assume he's missing. I know that something big has to be going on, judging by how tense everyone is, and the way DiNozzo's trying to keep everything from me. Not to mention that you're involved too. I know that at least two of our own are dead. And I know that Tony was in an explosion and that he's more hurt than he wants to admit, or he'd have been back here by now." He stopped and Fornell could see the strain this was causing his old adversary. It was the most he'd heard him talk at a stride in a while, and he knew this was a sign of how worried and unsettled he was. Maybe the drugs had something to do with that too.

Question was, what would risk setting back his recovery more: to know and worry or _not_ to know and worry? "The perps that shot you down were part of a terrorist organisation called Balance. They seem to be an environmental group from countries all over the world, and with very good funds. Unfortunately, we don't know much more about them. But everything indicates that they plan an attack tomorrow," he looked at his watch, "make that tonight. They also kidnapped the directors of NCIS, FBI, CIA, NSA and Homeland as well as SecNav. Per SecDev and Attorney General orders we formed a special task force to prevent the attack and get our bosses back." There he finished his report, DiNozzo's warning never far from his mind. He agreed that Gibbs was in no condition to hear more than that. Certainly not about his longtime agent and friend - and let's be frank here, surrogate son really - having to face Y Pestis again or being dumped with the lead of the whole operation. Not yet.

Of course, even in this state, Gibbs had no problem knowing that there was a lot he wasn't being told, which he made clear with the glare he gave him; a glare Fornell ignored without so much as a twinge of conscience. "DiNutso's a bit banged up, but he's fine."

"He tell you that?" Gibbs snorted.

"As a matter of fact yeah. But Mallard and the rest of your team are busy mothering him, so he _is_ fine enough," Fornell insisted with certainty. No matter what DiNozzo thought, Gibbs needed to know as much. In his place he wouldn't be able to rest properly either for as long as he didn't know how his little girl was doing.

But Gibbs didn't look much at ease. "He's an undercover agent and the son of a conman. Unless his organs are hanging out and he's missing half his brain, if he doesn't want you to know, you need a full body scan to be sure that he's _fine_." He looked out into the dark night, his hands fisting. "Besides, it's not the physical pain I'm most worried about."

That Fornell had no problem believing. Watching the pale man for a moment, he sighed. "He's under a lot of pressure and stress, but I gotta admit, he handles it well. You ever tell him that, I'll find a reason for Diane to send her hounds after you again."

Gibbs didn't react to the taunt, which worried Fornell. Usually, his friend could never resist answering such a barb. Instead, Gibbs gripped the cover tightly in his hands and searched Fornell's eyes. "How's he dealing with the dead agents?"

Growing somber, Fornell shrugged. "Hard. Blames himself. But he knows mourning has to wait. As has the guilt-trip."

Gibbs nodded. Then, in a sudden explosion, he raised his good arm and slammed his fist down onto his legs. That made the man pale even more, if possible, his jaw clenched tightly, as the cost of the sudden movement hit him. "_Fuck_!"

Fornell understood his friend perfectly. He got it. His agency, that was more than a job and employer for him, was in trouble. The very same enemy he had dedicated his life to fighting was on the verge of viciously attacking the country he had sacrificed everything for. His people were fighting alone, in terrible danger, and there was nothing he could do to help them. And on top of that all, the man he loved like a son needed him and he was bound to a hospital bed. Probably, in his place, he'd feel the same crippling frustration. But because they were so much alike, he also knew that the last thing Gibbs needed was his sympathy. So he sneered. "That's helpful."

As expected, the power of Gibbs' frustration turned to rage that was instantly turned towards him. For the umpteenth time he was glad that the blue laser beams of the NCIS agent couldn't actually hurt anyone. As it was it still felt as if his hair was starting to frizzle a bit. Oh well. He could glare with the best of them, even Gibbs, and gave it right back.

Gibbs looked away first; then again, Fornell didn't delude himself that it was thanks to the power of his stare. "Do the only thing you can at the moment," he said, standing up. "Sleep. Rest. Get better." Again a sizzle that nearly burned his eyes. Fornell shrugged. "DiNutso and the rest of your team have enough to worry about. Don't add to it." If any argument was going to prevent Gibbs aggravating his wounds _and_ team likewise, this should be it.

Gibbs' jaw muscles flexed, his hands fisted tightly. But he did give a tight nod eventually. Knowing this was the best he was going to get, Fornell glanced at the still sleeping Palmer, shook his head and checked his watch. "I need to get back to the office," he said, moving towards the door.

"Tobias."

Stopping, he glanced back to see Gibbs' looking at him expectantly. Demanding. "Watch his six."

Fornell softened. Only inwardly though. Outwardly, he grinned slyly. "Already do."

* * *

><p>With a jerk, Tony woke up, breathing harshly. His wide, bloodshot, stinging eyes darted around the room, trying to gauge where he was, as he tried to assure himself that Gibbs, Ziva and Tim weren't lying dead on bloody concrete, Abby wasn't stuck in her lab, being attacked by giant plague bacteria and Ducky and Jimmy weren't trapped in an exploding ME truck. His breathing slowing down, he realised that he was on the couch in Vance's office. Just a dream. Wait? Vance's office? Why ... That's when he remembered.<p>

Groaning, Tony swung his legs back onto the floor and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face, going back to his temples, massaging them with slow circles. God, his head hurt. Actually, his body ached pretty much all over, but the hammering in his head definitely won first prize. Maybe he should take some Tylenol after all, he thought with a grimace. He hated drugs of any kind, especially when they were on a case. It wasn't just that his body seldom reacted well to them, but more a general hate for anything narcotic that had its roots back when he had to watch his mom drug herself into oblivion on a daily basis. He was a cop, he knew the statistics. Just because your parents were addicts didn't mean you'd became one too - but damn, it happened often enough. He'd seen his share of kids following their parent's pattern. Add to that that as a cop, again the numbers worked against him, he didn't want to tempt fate. He'd sworn to himself to never become like them and he had no intention of ever breaking that oath. Once or twice he'd come close to it, especially after Jeanne and Jenny, but he'd caught himself in time.

It was scary how easy it was to fall into that trap, all the more reason for him to stay away from temptation. Especially drugs. Problem was, in his line of work, getting hurt was inevitable. As was the necessity of having a clear mind. And a mind only focused on what was hurting was as useless as a mind that was scrambled by drugs. Finding the balance, that was the secret; taking enough to dull the edge of the pain and enable him to concentrate on work, but not enough that colors got bright and his mind jumped randomly from one thing to another at warp speed.

He checked his watch. Nearly 0430. So he had slept almost two hours. Yawning, he looked for the file he had been reading as sleep had highjacked him. Some maneuver planned for the USS Enterprise in the East Chinese Sea at - crap, 0500. Quickly, he flipped through the operation again, memorizing the most important facts and goals. Basically, they wanted to test a new jet - officially. Unofficially, they wanted to get some new intel on China and Korea. Why he was supposed to watch and give the mission a go was beyond him. It wasn't as if he could change anything of the outcome, apart from aborting the mission. Which no one would like, least of all the Under Secretary as SecNav had given the green light for the mission months ago. So really, his participation was pretty useless from his point of view. But that was his job now.

One more reason for him to wish this was over soon. He'd never liked playing Battleship and saw no reason to start now. His time would be more useful spent working on the acute terrorism threat and finding the connection between Balance and Major Peck.

His mind screeched to a stop.

Peck. God! David Peck, Major, dead Ranger. Everything had begun with _him_. It was his crime scene that lead them to Balance, Tom, the biological weapons, the plague. And yet, they had totally forgotten about him! How could he have been so stupid! Always start at the beginning!

Why had they been called in anyway? Rangers were Army, so not their jurisdiction. They would have turned over the case, but by then they'd already been under fire and this whole nightmare had started.

There had to be a connection. No way it was a coincidence that they'd stumbled over Balance at his crime scene. But where was it? Questions tumbled in his mind, now that he'd finally found his missing lead. For example, why had Tom and his friends still been there? Had they waited for a team to respond? Maybe waited for them specifically? No. No way they could have known the wrong agency would respond. Waiting would have been stupid – and as they so far hadn't been stupid with anything they'd done, there had to be another reason. Could it be that they'd surprised them? Or maybe they'd forgotten something, went back to get rid of it and then stumbled over the team?

Too many questions. But he'd be damned if they wouldn't get answers ASAP. They'd wasted way too much time already, just because he couldn't remember the most basic of rules. The first twenty-four hours were the most important after a crime and here they'd let the case go cold until now, ignored the beginning and on top of that he now had to shorten even the barest of minimum rest he'd allowed his people. He jumped up to hurry over to the phone on his desk but had to stop and brace himself with a tight grip on the sofa as the world tilted and his head did his best to explode right there still screwed onto his body. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing until the world stopped spinning. Then he began to push the pain aside, if only for the moment it took him to get to the desk and the Tylenol waiting there in the pocket of his jacket. It was definitely time to succumb to the pain and take something against it.

When he felt he could move now without having to throw up the pizza into Vance's trash can, he carefully made his way over, plopping unceremoniously into Vance's chair. Reaching for the pills with one hand and the phone with his other he started dialing while dry swallowing a couple of pills. First Ducky to tell him to get round to Peck's body ASAP. Then the lab to order Abby and McGee onto Peck's records. Personnel file, handy records, financial background and he needed the records of how the call had come in, leading them to the crime scene. And he could get on the phone, call a few buddies he had in the Rangers. Maybe they could tell him more about Major Peck if any of them knew the Major, give him a feel of how the man had been, if he was likely to be a part of a group like Balance.

He was onto something, he just knew it. Peck was the key. Now they just had to find out to which lock.

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Boy, had I fun writing the first two parts of this one! Again! Sigh, I just love teasing Tony and Gibbs and Fornell together is always a treat. Hope I did them justice. Also, once more, thank you so much for the many and oh so wonderful reviews you great guys keep giving me! Love every last one of them. Next chapter will hopefully come soon, though a fair warning, it won't be that easy for me to write so it may take a bit longer than usual. But I'll do my best! <em>


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Timmie."

Tim mumbled, turned, but showed no intention whatsoever of waking up. Smiling ruefully, Abby knelt beside the futon, leaning down to the sleeping man. She knew he had barely had any rest, only just fallen asleep really, and she really didn't want to wake him up so soon but unfortunately, there was no choice. "Hey. Probie! Elf lord!" she called, channeling Tony and the bossman, knowing from experience that that would rouse him far faster than any pushing on her part. Tim could be quite the heavy sleeper.

It worked wonderfully. Tim shot up, eyes wide. "Yes, boss!"

Grinning, Abby sat back. "Relax, Timmie. It's just me."

He blinked. "Abs?"

"Hmm. Tony called," she explained, jumping up. "He needs us to get every last thing we can on David Peck, ASAP."

"David Peck?" he repeated, blinking again, lost.

Abby nodded. "Dead Major?"

"Dead ... Oh." Apparently it clicked. "Why?" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes, letting out a long and loud yawn.

Rolling her eyes, Abby held out her caf-pow towards him. This man clearly needed a healthy dose of caffein. "Because Tony said so," she said slowly, willing him to finally catch up. To be fair though, she too had needed a moment to catch up when Tony had barked his orders through the phone. She sighed. She really wished he had come down to tell her himself. Since everything had happened she'd hardly seen him and when she had, he was almost never alone. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, even more she wanted to ask and damn it, she needed a hug! Especially with Gibbs hurt, now was really not the time for Tony to forget about her. Shaking her head, she immediately scolded herself. Tony was doing his best. And despite having not only the agency to run but also this mega operation, he had found time to come by or at least call as often as he could. Vance never did that.

Of course, Vance wasn't her friend. Let alone her best friend. He was the director. He was the one who sent Tony and Ziva away and Tim down to the geeks, not giving Gibbs even a warning before taking away their family. She had warmed up to him over the years, still, she would never forgive the man for that. Tony would never have done such a thing, wouldn't even dream of it. Still, she did hope fervently that they found the director soon and safe. Not just because he had a real nice family and all in all wasn't the devil incarnate, but mostly because what Tim had said yesterday scared her. She'd never liked change much, so if Tony having to step in while Vance was gone was risking the status quo, she wanted him off that chair as soon as possible. She almost wished he'd screw it up, but not even her darkest side could actually go through with that wish.

Behind her, Tim suddenly cursed loudly, jumping up with an energy he shouldn't have after barely two hours of sleep. "God! Rule Twenty! Always start at the beginning! How could we have forgotten Rule Twenty!"

"Dunno. Gibbs wouldn't have," Abby answered, depressed. He wouldn't have. But he was not here and that was probably why they had forgotten that rule. Still, it was no excuse. Not in Gibbs' book. Then again, Tony had remembered it eventually, before the critical twenty-four hours had been up. So it wasn't that bad, was it?

If not for Tony though ... "Tim?" Something in her voice must have warned McGee to interrupt his frenzied starting up of the necessary searches and he looked at her, quizzically. "Do you really think Tony's going to leave the team?"

He immediately looked away and Abby's heart sank. His forced shrug and mumbled, evasive answer made it even worse. He really thought Tony would leave. And worst of all, the more she thought about it, the more she feared he was right.

But it couldn't be! They needed Tony! She needed him, he was her best friend! Who else would get all her movie references and jokes? Who else would always be ready to go out with her? Who else would protect her from every bad date without her having to worry about her date's survival chances? Who else would hold her together whenever Gibbs wasn't there?

And she wasn't the only one who depended that much on Tony! He was their rock. Most would think Gibbs was the rock of the team and on first glance that was true. Until the times when Gibbs lost his patience and exploded. No, Gibbs was their vulcan, a very active vulcan, but Tony was their rock. Always there to support, to lean on, immovable, indestructible, unfazed, no matter what was thrown at him. They needed him so much!

Tim needed him; who else would tease him mercilessly, readying him for dealing with anyone they may encounter on the job but at the same time protecting him from anyone who would even think badly about his probie? Jimmy needed him; Tony really was the only one beside Ducky who truly believed in him and once Ducky retired, which he would have to sometime in the next years, no matter how much she hated the very idea of an autopsy without him there, and Jimmy succeeded him, he would need Tony on his side even more. Ducky needed him; to listen patiently to his stories, always ready to help him, no matter what was being asked of him. Ziva needed him. He was her partner, the only one to be able to make her feel something some times, even if it was only anger or exasperation. Gibbs needed him. God, did the boss need Tony. To have his six, to be standing there between Gibbs and everyone else, to be the one person he could trust absolutely. There was a void a nine years old girl had left, and only Tony seemed to be able to fill it completely.

But Tony too – _he_ needed them as well! They were the only real family he ever had, they were the only ones to truly know him, to not be blinded by whatever Tony made everyone else believe. To watch his six, care about him, make sure he stayed safe. Stayed alive.

No, Tony couldn't leave! He just couldn't!

* * *

><p>Gibbs awoke to light snoring, but that was not what had woken him. Squinting in the dimly lit room, he turned his head to the side, meeting eyes he couldn't see. "You're not supposed to be here."<p>

His eyes adjusted so he could make out the figure sitting beside his bed, who shrugged. "I wanted to see for myself that you are not dying."

Gibbs felt a small smile tuck at the corner of his lips. Most were offended by Ziva's brutal honesty, but he found it refreshing. "And?"

"You are too pale and too weak for my liking - but it does seem as if you are healing, so I am satisfied enough," she answered softly.

He couldn't help it, he chuckled. Glancing over to the window, he shook his head, amazed that Palmer still was soundly asleep. Ziva followed his eyes. "I hope he is never supposed to watch me. At least the guard on the door knows his duties."

Gibbs returned his eyes to her, studying her. He frowned. Something was off with his only female team member but he couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't ask though. Silence worked far better to get Ziva to talk than words. Probably because she had been trained to withstand any questions. So he settled back and waited.

After perhaps five minutes or so, she broke the silence. "In Tel Aviv, why did you choose Tony over me?"

Gibbs glanced at her, wondering why she brought that back up. It sure was unexpected. "You made me choose."

She nodded as if that said it all. Maybe it did. "And I told you I did no longer trust Tony."

To that Gibbs had nothing to say.

"You made the right choice, you know?" Ziva asked, staring at his bed covers rather than him. "I was wrong to ask you this, I know it now."

He sighed. He didn't know if it had been the right or wrong choice. Somedays he agreed with her, somedays he had doubts. What he knew was that it had been the only choice he could have made, whatever the reasons. And he knew that Ziva hadn't been in her right mind that day. "You were hurt and confused. You just lost someone you loved. It was understandable."

"I did not love Michael. I wanted to. I _should_ have. But I did not." Ziva was still looking intently at his bedcovers, her voice soft and wistful.

"Should have?" Gibbs picked out, wondering what the hell had happened to turn his former Mossad officer this melancholic.

She smiled sadly. "He was the kind of man I was expected to marry."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "A killer?"

Ziva's smile deepened. "That was unimportant. He was Israeli. He was Jewish, if only by birth. He was Mossad. He was like my father when he was younger."

Ah. That made sense. He'd always wondered how much Eli David had to do with the relationship his daughter had had with one of his best agents. At the same time he'd wondered how a father could encourage his only surviving child to form a relationship with a man like Michael Rivkin. If a guy like that had so much as looked at Kelly, he would have taken out his rifle and put a definite end to it before there was even a start. Of course, he never had the chance to scare off unsuitable boyfriends from his daughter.

Pushing that unwelcome thought away, he watched his agent. Instead he had his team to keep in check with Rule Twelve. Not for the first time he wondered if Ziva and Tony had ever broken that rule. Heaven knew they'd had enough opportunities. And he also wondered if Eli David's urging of this crazy relationship of Ziva with Rivkin had anything to do with Rivkin being similar enough to Tony in build and character to have piqued Ziva's interest but otherwise be the pure opposite of him. Ziva and Tony had become very close before Vance had separated them all, and during Tony's interrogation in Tel Aviv it had become painfully clear what the Mossad director had thought of just how close that partnership had become.

Gibbs never had questioned either of them, not really wanting to know. As long as the team wasn't affected, he could overlook some things. But he didn't think they crossed that line – because the team _hadn't _been affected. Bitter personal experience had taught him that if you crossed that line, the team was fucked up. Hence Rule Twelve.

"I am curious though - would you ever choose me over him?"

Ziva's soft question brought him back to the here and now with a cold feeling of dread. With a frown he glared at her, not bothering to answer. He didn't have to.

She rose her eyes to meet his, with no hurt or pain in them. Just acceptance. "You would not. You should not. No matter what there is between you and me, what is between you and Tony is far stronger. You need him. You do not need me."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "What happened, Ziva?"

"I faced the truth," she said, again smiling sadly, before looking at her watch. "I have to go. Tony set up a briefing for everyone at 0600. I am very happy to see you are alive, Gibbs." She slipped from the room before he could call her back and demand answers.

Something had happened to turn Ziva this thoughtful and he bet his house that it had to do with Tony. Damn it! Wasn't it bad enough that DiNozzo was pretty much alone while facing a terrorist attack? Did those two idiots have to go and disturb what had worked just fine for the past six years now too? Clearly, DiNozzo needed someone to give him a firm headslap. And everyone else needed some good glares or one-worded threats to get their heads screwed on right again and do their best to have DiNozzo's six, no matter what. He ground his teeth. Tony needed him. In the office. Not here in a fucking hospital bed!

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for what he needed to do next. He pulled out the tubes that were still connected to him, pushed back his covers and with one swift move, sat up. The world tilted and blackened at the same time as his stomach lurched and pain exploded in his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he groaned, unable to stop the tremor running through his body or the meager contents of his stomach spilling out. As it was, it took everything he had to not lose consciousness.

"Agent Gibbs! What are you doing?" Strong but gentle hands held him until he stopped gagging before they forced him to lie back down. Gibbs didn't protest though he hated to have to admit defeat. But he wasn't going anywhere, not for the moment, that much he couldn't deny anymore.

"Really, Agent Gibbs, what were you thinking? You're no way fit enough to get up!" a flustered Palmer told him, fussing with the tubes and leads to connect them back to the sick man's treacherous body.

Gibbs didn't answer, still trying to not pass out. Then again, perhaps that would be for the best. Clearly, he could be of no help to his team right now. Perhaps, succumbing to the darkness would help him do the only other thing he could do. Heal. The sooner the better. With that thought in mind he let go with a scowl and a pang of guilt.

* * *

><p>Tony looked around the room, taking the time to watch every single person for a moment. Someone in this room was a traitor and he had no idea who it was, nor had he the time to flush that traitor out or control who learned what. This briefing was necessary and they didn't have the luxury of gathering the information between Fornell and himself before distributing it amongst this group. The only thing he could do was to try to hold back as much critical information as he could. So there would be no heads-up about their investigation into Major Peck, he had told McGee not to give out the information he got from the confiscated laptops until they could speak alone, and he was not going to decide in front of them all on which possible targets they would concentrate; at least not yet.<p>

Once everyone was gathered around the conference room, he nodded to Kort. "Let's start with what you've learned of Balance."

"It's not as much as we would _like _to know, but between NSA and CIA we did manage to gather some more intel: Balance has only surfaced in the past two years here and there, but we have reason to believe that the group was indeed formed decades ago, most likely in the sixties," Kort started.

"Sixties? And you only just found out about it now?" Heyes blurted incredulously. "What exactly are you spooks doing with our tax dollars?"

"Special Agent Heyes," Tony snapped, sending a glare at his most senior lead agent. "Let Agent Kort talk. Questions later. No accusations or you're off this investigation and on suspension, effective immediately."

Heyes' face turned beet red and his eyes flashed with unabashed fury. He opened his mouth, but Tony narrowed his eyes even more, staring him down until he closed it again and crossed his arms with a disgusted huff.

"That goes for everyone, is that clear?" Tony told the assembled group, waiting a moment. No one spoke. With a satisfied nod he waved at Kort to continue.

"Balance started as a harmless group within the flower power movement, at least to the outside. Basically, they wanted peace and freedom for everyone in a environment-friendly world, like all those groups back then. Unfortunately, as it seems, they identified the source of the problem as the world-leading countries and figured, in order to achieve their goals, those countries have to fall."

Lorn from NSA took over.

"From what we can tell, these are their goals: break the power and monopolies countries like the US have on the entire world, stop the over-population and return balance to the planet. They believe that this is the only way Earth can survive for many more centuries. And they've had almost fifty years to prepare for those goals. They've gone to ground, kept a tight lid on everything concerning Balance, keeping it secret at all costs."

"We have to assume that most members active today have been born into this system of belief, and taught and trained to achieve those goals at all costs. Balance is extremely dangerous and yes," Kort said reluctantly, glancing at Heyes, "we gravely underestimated the danger they represent, not only against us, but all humanity. As we speak our agencies work closely with other agencies all over the world to gather as much intel as possible as fast as we can but we're all late in doing so. We know very little, especially about how the organization is run and by whom. It's the general consensus that most likely Balance is run by a group of several people, consisting of citizens of several countries. We have no idea how many are at the top, have not one name, nor are we able to tell from where they have their money."

"We think some US citizens are most likely members of Balance. Given what we know now, we believe there's a very high possibility that Balance managed to infiltrate several of our most essential agencies and maybe even the White House," Lorn picked up again, looking straight at Tony, his face expressionless.

Tony was surprised they admitted as much. And annoyed that they had to come and voice their worries in front of everyone. Holding Lorn's eyes for a moment, he wondered if maybe, it had been a deliberate tactic? His statement was sure to start immediate trust issues and wild speculation about who was a traitor and who wasn't, getting everyone's paranoia up. If that was the plan it was already working fine as Tony was the best proof of that. Looking around, he could see from the covert glances shooting around the room that he wasn't the only one. "We'll keep that in mind. For now, we still have a biological act of terrorism to stop and I have no doubts that everyone," he stressed that word, briefly meeting every pair of eyes that was looking back at him while mentally making a list of the people who didn't look at him, "in this room is doing everything in their power to prevent the loss of thousands if not millions of innocent lives." He looked at Farrington and Fornell. "In that context, let's talk about targets. You have a list for us?"

Farrington, one of the people that hadn't looked at him, sighed. "We have one, but we are still narrowing it down. As it is, the list is still way too long." She called up a map of the US on the big screen, a few dozen virtual pointers showing up. "For now, these are the targets that could have the worst fall-out," she said.

As she pressed another key, some of the dots blew up to little pictures with red numbers by them. "The President is traveling to New York today to speak in front of the UN about the situation in Africa. Approximately three hundred people are expected for the speech and the cocktail party afterwards. There's also a game in the MetLife Stadium; Giants v. Bears. It's sold out, so we have 82500 possible victims. The Smithsonian has a Gala-event for the opening of a new exhibition, a good three hundred of the most wealthy and powerful Washington elite are expected to attend. There's a sold-out Justin Bieber concert in the Verizon Center, so we could have 20000 victims. Capitol Hill, the Pentagon and the White House are likely targets as well, though security is very tight. Still, with the help of a mole nothing is out of the question."

She was right, even this short list was still way too long. They couldn't cover all of the events. Hell, they could barely cover one in the time they had as it was. Calling the events off was not possible either, that much he had gotten already from SecDef. Not unless they had proof these events were indeed targets. Too much money and power was involved. And canceling the mass events would lead to questions they had no good answers for, which in turn could lead very fast to a mass panic. At least it had already been arranged that the security for the President was tightened and would be on high alert all day long.

Again Tony couldn't help but think that it was awfully convenient that Farrington had nothing more concrete to offer. This was what Homeland was best at so why couldn't they narrow it down more? Hadn't they done preliminary threat analysis at least on the big events a long time ago?

"Agent McGee managed to break into the confiscated laptops just before this meeting started. He hasn't had time yet to go through the data, but let's hope we find clues for the intended targets," Tony informed them, flat out lying. McGee had told him he was almost in, but still needed a couple of hours or so. Maybe the fear of whatever may be on those laptops would force the traitor to take action and expose him. "In the meantime, re-check the security on the game, the UN, the Pentagon and the Capitol." He hesitated. He had to narrow it down somewhat, but without any concrete evidence, he could only go with his gut, based on what they'd learned. Maybe he was all wrong and he knew in that case, any lives lost would be on him. But not doing anything at all was worse than being wrong. At least this way, they could maybe get ahead of them. "To distribute the Y. Pestis certain conditions have to be met. Concentrate on those. And tighten the security. It's time to get the city LEOs involved. Within an hour a mail will go out to all PDs with an alert. There will be no word of the pestis bacteria or biological hazard though. The alert will only mention bombs. I expect this to stay this way," he emphasized harshly, glaring at everyone.

Grim faces met him, some nodded. So far so good. "Could we identify more possible members? Have some idea about how many we are facing?"

"Based on the search parameters we established yesterday we found about fifty more names that fit," Fornell answered. "We work on locating them and do background checks but it's slow going. Of about a dozen of them we're pretty sure they are indeed members of Balance. As for how many there really are -" he shrugged, "your guess is as good as mine. Worldwide, for sure we have a few hundreds. Probably not many more than that or we would have learned more of Balance by now."

Tony sighed, not liking the vagueness of it all. Then again, he reminded himself, they'd not been at it even twenty-four hours. For so little time, what they've learned already was impressive. Unfortunately, that would matter little, faced with thousands of victims in the case that they failed to prevent the attack due to too little information.

Turning to the team leaders, he asked, "Keller, Bell, you found out anything on how they knew when to hit our directors?"

Bell shook his head. "We went through everyone who knew anything about that meeting. We checked their phone and bank records, combed through their files, interviewed close co-workers, came up with nothing." That was as far as his report went, not that Tony was surprised. After Gibbs, Bell had the reputation of being the most taciturn agent NCIS had. But the former Naval Commander was also known to be very thorough and like a pit-bull, once he was on to something. It slowed him down, making him often spend just a bit too much time on a single case, but he got the job done. Tony was pretty sure he was clear. Treason wasn't in his nature. Plus, he was the one team leader that was tolerated the most by Gibbs.

"We figure they most likely gathered the intel by hacking their computers or phones. CCU's checking into that; they said though, there may be no trace left, depending on how good they were," Keller added. "Another possibility is that one of the attendants himself leaked the information. We are going through their files and records too now, though due to their positions it's more difficult to get our hands on everything."

Yeah, Tony had had that thought himself as well. It would explain a lot. But he could see by the nasty glares Keller got that the representatives of their fellow agencies didn't like that implication at all. Once again, his anxiety flared up. Blaming one of their bosses just on a hunch, having no proof at all, could be as disastrous for the team work as Lorn's wild implications of a traitor among them earlier on. Keller was a good agent, a good man. Vance never tired to point out his diplomacy skills to Gibbs and himself. This remark though had shown little regard for inter-agency diplomacy. Was it just a mistake or was it intention?

Shaking his head at his own paranoia, he nodded. There was nothing he could say. He agreed that they had to check the possibility of one of their missing superiors being the mole. Denying that possibility flat out would only make him look gullible and the last thing this task force needed was their members losing the little respect and trust they had in their leader. "We have to check all possibilities. For now though we concentrate on finding the missing, not a traitor who may or may not exist," he said in the end, hoping it was the right thing to say. Quickly, he moved on, looking at his remaining team leaders. "Any progress on getting a location on them?"

Ida Lopez smiled ruefully at him. "Some, Boss, though not as much as we all hoped for. We could identify the vehicles in which they were most likely abducted. Two white Ford Transits with no logos are seen pulling into the driveway at 0955. They leave at 1034. My team checked into the vehicles. They were rented by a firm called Gallaway Catering. They were picked up by a George Levine and Adam Madden. Money trail led to a postal holding address. We're still trying to get further than that. Gallaway Catering doesn't exist either. Sorry, boss, that's all my team found out yet." She looked him in the eyes, chagrined.

Never in a million years would he believe her to be a traitor. That was just why he couldn't help but suspect her. Traitors seldom were the guys you didn't like or who showed you how little they liked you like Keller did. More often than not, traitors were the jovial, nice and helpful people. However else would they gather their intel? Of course that was why it hurt so much once you found out about the betrayal. He knew that better than anyone. When he'd been undercover he'd almost never been the jerk, but always the buddy. Ida was an attractive and nice gal, eager to please him. A bit too eager. She accepted him being the boss way too easily. Maybe because she thought that would automatically lead to her group's victory? Plus, she was the same age as the bodies down in autopsy and her last name would fit the profile. But he couldn't think of an artist called Ida. Of course, personal preferences were very different. Maybe whoever gave these names liked an artist called Ida. Then again, it would be stupid of them to use only musician's names. Especially when sending someone undercover long term.

"That's alright. It's a start," he responded, looking at Miller, who made it short. "We interviewed neighbours and anyone else who might have seen something. They saw the vans, but not the drivers, nor did they witness the abduction. We also interviewed the families and secretaries. No usual behavior, no one noticed someone behaving suspiciously or following them. In a nutshell, we have nothing."

He got that right. Tony had a hard time believing that after almost a day, they didn't have more. The MCRT would have gotten at least something, he was pretty sure. Then again, Miller's team wasn't the MCRT. And Miller was most definitely no Leroy Jethro Gibbs or even a DiNozzo. Usually, Miller worked on fraud cases. Not exclusively but it was close. If this was what his team could come up after twenty hours then he began to see why Vance kept him away from more time sensitive cases. But maybe he wasn't being fair. Some cases were like that, giving you nothing no matter how many stones you turned. Either way, he was almost positive that Miller was in the clear. Too old, too slow, too stupid. Making him a traitor would make no sense. He'd still check into him, but only to cover all his bases.

He nodded and looked at Heyes. Giving him a look of contempt, he signaled McGee who called up a video onto the big flat screen. "We gathered all video coverage we could find, following the two vans as far as possible. Here they leave the compound." Another wave at McGee who forwarded the video. "We were able to follow them through half the city before they entered the Third Street tunnel. There we lost them." They saw the van entering the tunnel. Then they saw the exit, vehicles coming out, some Tony recognized from being around the vans, but no vans.

"The other exit?" he wanted to know.

Heyes shrugged. "Nothing. They had some maintenance problems though, so the street cameras there didn't record everything. Could be they lucked out and hit just the right moment. Problem is we can't find them on other cameras either. It's like they vanished in that tunnel."

"Nothing just vanishes," Tony told the most seasoned lead agent flatly before telling McGee to play the last bit again. Something was nagging at him. It was awfully coincidental that the cameras on the other exit were malfunctioning just when they were after one of the most dangerous terrorist groups they'd seen since the Taliban. But what if they only wanted them to think what everyone thought now? What if they exited the tunnel regularly? Just because they couldn't see them didn't mean they hadn't driven by. With narrowed eyes he watched the feed again, then a third and fourth time. He could sense the others getting restless, but ignored them. No matter what SecDef said, first and foremost he was an investigator. Finally he nodded and moved to the screen, telling McGee to play it one last time. They saw the vans coming around the bend that led to the tunnel and Tony told him to freeze it. But he didn't point to the vans. Instead he moved to the edge of the screen and pointed at a truck that was just about to enter the tunnel, eight cars ahead of the vans. "See this strip of white fabric fluttering in the wind? Move forward, McGee." They watched as the video spun forward until the truck exited the tunnel again. He waited until they had a clear view of the back of the truck before he told McGee to freeze it again. "See? Now the strip is captured between the hatch and the floor. Also, it's lower on its suspension than before. They drove into the truck."

Heyes laughed disbelievingly. "Come on, you can't be serious. This isn't one of your movies, this is real life. No one would be crazy enough to pull such a stunt. Besides, the tunnel isn't long enough for the hatch to raise and lower again."

"The truck takes longer than it should to exit again, suggesting they slowed down a lot the second they entered the tunnel. And with all the preparations they've made, I wouldn't be surprised that they modified the truck just for this operation," Tony answered calmly. He was right, he knew it. Luckily, being the boss, that was all he needed to be able to follow his gut. "But you're right, those eight cars clearing the way for them to drive in just at the right moment is unlikely. Keller, you follow that truck. Find out where it came from and where it headed to, who it belongs to. Miller, you track down the plates of each of those eight cars between the vans and the truck. Heyes, you find out why those cameras malfunctioned, then help Lopez to follow the money trail. I bet we'll be getting a lot more non-existent firms." And this way, the old guy would be out of the way, along with the eager Lopez. He didn't think following those fake firms would get them anywhere, but somebody had to look into it while the rest worked on the more promising leads, few as they were. Not that he thought Heyes was the traitor. He was just a pompous asshole who was too lazy and narrow-minded in his job. It was really time the veteran took his hat and retired to Florida like he always bragged about.

"Okay, that's it. Get back to work. If Agent McGee finds something helpful on the laptops, I'll let you know as soon as possible. Remember, this goes down today. I expect everyone to be on stand-by and be ready," he told them, deadly serious.

People nodded and shuffled outside, all but the ones Tony asked to hang back with a glance: Fornell, McGee, Ducky, Abby and Ziva. Once everyone was out, he went over to the laptop connected to the Beemer and called up the file on Peck. "He's the key. I know you didn't have much time but what did you find out so far?"

"There's not much I can say about his death that you don't already know. He was shot in the back of his head at a very close range. There's no doubt that it was a cold-blooded execution. The major was in excellent health though his body wears the marks of war," Ducky made it quite short, refraining from his usual excursions into the seemingly bottomless well of his memories and knowledge.

"David Peck, age thirty-four, born in Lawrence, Kansas. Both parents dead, no siblings, single. Entered the Army straight out of high school, joined the Rangers at age twenty-six," McGee reported. "Excellent record. His superiors always recommended him for promotion, his next one was already pending. He'd begun a two months leave last Saturday after a mission of eight months in Colombia."

"I talked briefly with his CO and team leader this morning as well as some friends Commander Trell mentioned. They all seemed quite shocked about his murder. No one knew of anyone having a dispute with Major Peck. Also, they were very surprised to hear he was in Washington. Apparently he had told everyone that he would go visit a friend in Hawaii." Ziva avoided his eyes as she talked. Tony wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved by that. Growling inwardly at himself, he concentrated back on the case. "I checked into that and found out that he had indeed been in Hawaii until two days ago. According to his friend, a Mahali Konokava, he received a call in the morning and was on the next flight to DC. She had no idea why, he only said a friend was needing his help."

"That's where I jump in. I pulled his phone records. Unfortunately, the call in question came from a blocked number. We're working on that," Abby said excitedly. "But it got me thinking that a lot of government offices block their number. 'cause who would take a call if you see it's tax or immigration looking for you, right? So I set up a search program that compared what we know of Peck against government personnel to see if there were any connections and wham, I got not one but two hits: a doctor, Colonel Philomenas Crest, and Franklin Bishop."

Fornell scowled. "Attorney General Franklin Bishop?"

Abby's head bobbed enthusiastically. "The one and only. They went to the same high school. While he and Crest grew up in the same street, went to the same classes all their lives, up until boot camp. Only then did their ways part."

"I guess I can tell Bell and Keller to stop looking for who ratted our bosses out," Tony said darkly, too tired to either get riled up that once again, he was screwed over by the upper brass, or excited to finally have a concrete lead. Absentmindedly he rubbed at his temples, adding the new pieces to the puzzle in his mind. Something was still missing. Crest had to be the friend that had called Peck to DC. But why? "Where does Crest work?"

Abby practically beamed. "United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases."

Now elation won over his wariness after all. "USAMRIID? And we only learn of that now?" Damn his screwed thinking on this job! He'd known Peck was the key! If he'd remembered Rule Twenty right from the start they could have been on Crest and Bishop hours ago. "I want him here, yesterday!" he barked at Ziva and McGee. They didn't need to be told twice. With a determined nod they slipped out of the room. He turned to Fornell. "Balance looks for a biological agent, but needs access to a high security lab to get it. In comes Bishop. He remembers his old high school buddy Phil, who works for USAMRIID now. Maybe they're friends, maybe he's got something on good ol' Phil. Either way he gets him to steal the pestis bacteria." He paced, needing to move as more and more pieces added themselves to the puzzle. "But Dr Phil remembers the oath he once took and his conscience won't let him rest. He doesn't know who to trust though. So what does he do?"

"He seeks the help of his long time friend, a man he only knows to be the epitome of integrity," Ducky supplied, always happy to spin a story. "He trusts him implicitly and him being a ranger, he figures he can protect him from Balance."

Tony spun to point a finger at him. "And Dr Mallard wins the million dollar question! So Phil calls Peck. Being the good friend he is, he leaves the lady in bed and flies to the rescue. Problem is Balance isn't stupid. They know Crest is a man without cause, merely a tool in the greater good. Not to be trusted. So they watch him. Follow him when he goes meeting Peck. Once they're sure the mission's compromised, they move in. Detain Crest, kill Peck, let the evidence disappear. Only problem is _we _get in the way. But why? Why us? There were no LEOs. No witnesses waiting for us on scene. Abs, you got something already on the call in?"

"Oh Tony, Tony, Tony. That you even have to ask," Abby told him with a sad head shake, moving to the laptop. "Call came in at 0827, directly in our central. It was too short to get a trace, number was blocked as well. Seems to be a cell though. A man said there was a dead soldier, named the address, hung up."

Tony was back to massaging his temples. This case gave him a headache with all the turns it took. "It couldn't have been Crest - or can it? Nah, they had to have watched him. Then again, it would make sense. With the Attorney General involved he can't trust the FBI or police. We're nothing to do with him. But neither's the Army. So why not call his own guys?" It just didn't make any sense. "Maybe he called someone else? After all, no disrespect to the rangers, but one ranger can hardly take on an organization like Balance alone."

"I'll pull his call records, look through Crest's files. Maybe I'll find something," Abby offered immediately.

Tony nodded. "Check Peck's again as well. Maybe he's the one who called in help. Could be Crest had also warned him how big this was."

"That's all very nice, DiNutso," Fornell spoke up finally, his voice scalding. "You forget just one thing. I'm sure it's not that important, but one or two may still insist on the technicality that you lack any shred of proof or evidence for your theories."

Tony smiled brightly at him. "Och, no worries there, Toby. By the time we go to court with this we'll have plenty of evidence." When Fornell raised an eyebrow he moved to sling an arm around Abby's shoulder, kissed the top of her head ,and slapped Ducky on the back. "My people will get it," he assured with absolute certainty.

TBC!

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><p><em>Author's Note: Sorry, this took a bit longer than anticipated. But here it is now, the brand new chapter with lots and lots of information. Hope you liked it. As always, thank you so much for the many wonderful reviews you've written, I truly love to see what every one thinks or which scenes they liked most. More soon!<em>


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Ducky kept himself in the background as Anthony ordered Abby to go lock herself with the still decrypting laptops into her lab, not opening up to anyone but those who had attended this secret meeting; then watched as he argued with Fornell about which of them would risk their careers in order to discreetly investigate Attorney General Franklin Bishop. Despite Tony going head to head with the seasoned FBI agent, not backing down an ounce, Fornell won that fight. Ducky had no doubt that his insistence had been fueled a great deal by a promise made to Jethro. Not being able to be here, Gibbs would call in all favors to ensure someone had his team's six in his absence; and even more importantly look out for Anthony. Who of course, being Leroy Jethro Gibbs' personally trained and handpicked second in command, had no intention of letting himself be babysat by the FBI, or have anyone else take responsibility for something he ordered.

So after losing this particular fight he insisted on going to SecDef personally in order to brief him on their damning suspicion, which, Ducky was also sure of, had been Anthony's intention all along. Judging by Fornell's glare he too recognized that he had been played well and truly by the young agent and was anything but pleased. But this fight he had no chance of winning and in the end could only leave in a huff. Ducky watched with interest as Anthony moved behind his desk, sagging down into his chair very heavily, closing his eyes, rubbing again at his temples. That was his cue. While Ducky didn't fool himself into believing that Anthony had forgotten about his presence, he doubted the boy was aware of the multiple times he had rubbed his head. Or how pale and worn he looked. Shaking his head, he stepped forward.

"Not now, Ducky," Anthony sighed, not opening his eyes. "I'm fine."

Ducky narrowed his eyes. "I'll be the judge of that. And even without a closer examination I can tell that you are far from fine."

"Okay then, I'll live," The boy corrected himself, still not bothering to open his eyes.

He hoped it was not to hide unfocused pupils. "Anthony, we've been over this several times already over the years. You need to take such injuries as yours seriously, even if they are _not_ life threatening. Even more, you must let your body have time to heal," he told him sternly.

Finally the boy opened his eyes, if only to glare at him. Out of very focused eyes. So far so good. "I don't have the luxury of time, Ducky. As you said, none of the injuries are life threatening. I've got a bruised upper torso and a concussion. I know how to deal with that. Hell knows it's not the first time. Besides, there's nothing your taking a look would serve to do, other than take up time I don't have. You want to doctor on someone, go have a word with Gibbs. Did you hear what he tried to pull this morning?"

Ducky clucked disapprovingly. "Yes, I heard. He is as foolish and stubborn as you are and I _will _have a word with him about taking proper care of his recovery. Now though, we're talking about _your _unacceptable disregard of your own health, Anthony, and don't think I'll be distracted so easily. As we've already established, we've been over this several times. I will not leave this room before I've examined you and ascertained that your injuries have not worsened. So off with your shirt now, Anthony."

His face closed off. "No," he refused flat out.

Exactly what Ducky had expected. Steeling his resolve, he gave the inveterately mulish boy one of his rare but unrelenting glares. "That is your prerogative. But know that in that case I see no other way than being forced to go tell your superior that you are unfit for duty."

"You wouldn't do that," Anthony pointed out, quite sure of himself. "It'd only upset Gibbs and risk his recovery, 'cause he'll try everything to sign himself out AMA."

"I wasn't talking about Jethro," Ducky responded calmly. "At the moment, I believe SecDef is your direct superior. Now be reasonable and let me have a look at you. You _are_ aware that you've already wasted more time with arguing about this than a quick check would have taken, aren't you?"

"You've no grounds for saying I'm unfit for duty," the boy still argued.

He should have known it. Nothing was ever easy with Anthony when someone had the audacity to worry about him or worse, show him that he was important enough for them to care. It saddened and angered Ducky at the same time because while he didn't want to imagine what or rather who had made that boy so guarded, he'd been long enough in the medical profession to have some pretty good ideas of what could cause such repugnance even many years later. Even towards a friend who, he hoped, had proven over a long time that he could be trusted. "Yes, I have. Ignoring your body's needs could lead to serious risks, not just for you, but for this mission. It could happen that your body fails you at a critical moment. I, you and SecDef can't take that risk."

"DiNozzos don't pass out," Anthony insisted grimly.

Ducky merely looked at him.

"That's blackmail, you know that?" the boy sighed, but started to remove his shirt, careful not to jostle his bruised ribs. "What does the medical board say to that?"

With a smile, Ducky moved around the desk to the boy's side, mindful to always stay in his field of vision, having learned early in his employment with NCIS that it put Anthony much more at ease if he could see what was happening. "Where do you think I learned that particular method? While I was in residency, there was this professor ..."

* * *

><p>Crest's eyes flicked nervously around the interrogation room, unaware of the people watching him through the mirror. "Did he say anything when you went to pick him up?" Tony asked, assessing the man he would have to interrogate in a short while.<p>

"He put up a bit of an argument, but all in all, he didn't resist coming with us much ," Tim told him. "We didn't say anything of why we wanted him here to question, didn't mention Peck or the threat. But while he feigned ignorance why we'd want him, he wasn't overly surprised either."

"Abby checked his records, he didn't make the call from his cell. Doesn't mean he didn't find another phone though," Tony said, wishing he had more than the call he had made to Peck to go confront him with. They didn't have time to do the usual dance until he broke and told them what they needed to know. He sighed, looking at Fornell. He too was scowling as he met his eyes. They held the look for a moment, before the older agent nodded shortly and left the room.

McGee and Ziva looked questioningly after him before looking back at Tony. He didn't offer an explanation. Instead, he turned his back on Crest. "We need to hurry this along. McGee, go to Abby. She said your program is about to finally get in. Help her view the files. If you find something useful, wonderful, come to me immediately. But if you find nothing, I want you to take the laptop back to your desk in an hour's time. Once you arrive in the bullpen, you'll tell Ziva that you've got something and ask where I am. Then come up to my office. Leave the laptop on your desk. Ziva, after a few minutes, you leave too. Bathroom, autopsy, lab, I don't care, just find a reason to leave and stay away for a few minutes."

"You think we have a mole. And that he will try to tamper with the laptop," Ziva stated, a slight frown on her face. "You want to flash him out."

"Flush, but yeah. That means though that once the laptop is gone, McGee will be the only one to have seen the contents. You need to watch his six like a hawk," Tony told her, before he narrowed his eyes at McGee. "You too. Be alert, watch your six. They may try something even before you've got anything." McGee rolled his eyes. Tony shot his hand out to give him a headslap. "Hey. They've flown under the radar for fifty years, infiltrated the highest governmental levels and showed just how ready they are to kill in order to protect their cause. They're dangerous. I'm not kidding here. You don't take any chances. Both of you. Got it?"

Growing serious, McGee nodded solemnly. "Got it."

Ziva too nodded determinedly. "I will ensure his safety."

McGee left but when Ziva wanted to follow him, he held her back. "Just a sec. You went to see Gibbs this morning. What did you say to him? Did you talk about the case?"

She frowned. "No. You were very clear in your orders. We did not talk about the case. Why?"

"Because as soon as you left, Gibbs tried to get up," Tony informed her, trying to keep the blame out of his voice. He knew the boss. Sooner or later he was bound to try to leave but he had thought it would take him longer to attempt it. Something Ziva had said to him must have worried him enough to forget that he had been shot twice and gone through surgery not twenty-four hours ago. He gritted his teeth. "You didn't talk about us to him, did you?"

"No! Please, Tony, I know better than that. Most of the time he was asleep. Shortly before I had to leave he woke up, but I swear, we did not talk about anything that should have prompted him to get up." She huffed. "He is as foolish with his own health as you are. Why do you insist on having so little regard to your body's limitations?"

How did they come around to talk about him? He shook his head. First Ducky, now her. Couldn't they just leave him alone? "You're one to talk. Just how many times did you run head on into danger?"

"Those were calculated risks," Ziva contradicted him with a pointed look. "You and Gibbs though, sometimes I think you have a death wish, the way you two throw yourselves into the line of fire or ignore injuries you have sustained."

"I'm not the one who went on a suicide mission with every intention of not coming out of it alive," he hissed, glaring at her.

She stiffened, but had nothing to reply. Angrily, he shook his head. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have asked her about her conversation with Gibbs. Right now, talking with her felt too much like a minefield. It was so easy to come back to the things he couldn't and wouldn't talk or think about at the moment. "Go. See that McGee reached the lab safely. Then go through Peck's file again. See if there's anyone with a connection to him and the Navy. Cross check Crest's file too. If there _is _a third person involved, we need to find him."

Without looking at him, she nodded and slipped from the room. Finally alone, he sighed with relief and leaned his head against the glass, closing his eyes. Okay, so what if he felt the strain of the responsibility, the long day, the emotional backlash from everything that had happened? He did his job, didn't he?

So they worried. He appreciated it, really he did. For too long he'd been alone, with no one that cared. He didn't wish those times back, ever, still. Sometimes it was a bit overwhelming, but then again, usually he secretly enjoyed it. Not the mothering, that could get boring real fast as he'd discovered soon after he started working for NCIS. But it was nice to see that at least some people did give a damn about how he was doing. Now though, it had clearly gotten out of hand.

Okay, good, so maybe it wasn't more concern than any other time Ducky and Abby and Gibbs and everyone else had worried about him not being entirely a hundred percent. Usually though, he wasn't the one in charge. Okay, so what. He was fine. A bit banged up, yeah, but nothing he couldn't deal with. Certainly nothing that warranted Ducky blackmailing him into doing a quick examination. Right now he didn't need their worry, he needed them to do their jobs and let him do his! Couldn't they see that their eating up his precious, limited time with unnecessary shows of worrying and caring didn't help him or anyone at the moment?

Behind him the door opened and he straightened immediately, schooling his face into the unemotional mask he had perfected since early in his childhood. Kort stood just inside the room, frowning, with Fornell directly behind him. "I was summoned I believe," he asked with a derisive sneer.

Tony ignored it and nodded at the man in the interrogation room. "Colonel Philomenas Crest, doctor with USAMRIID. We believe he was the one who got the pestis bacteria for Balance. We also believe that he was ready to get help, tell about the attacks. But before he got to it, the help he called in got killed. So now we need him to tell _us _everything he knows, fast."

Trent smiled nastily. "Let me guess, that's where I come in."

Tony glanced briefly at Fornell before he sighed. "Yeah."

Trent nodded with satisfaction then took a good look at the man on the other side of the mirror. "How come I never heard of this new suspect before now?"

"You heard it yourself during the meeting: we have to assume we have at least one traitor among us," Tony answered bluntly, having no time for games. "I'm not risking the operation by exposing parts of the investigation that are on a need to know base."

"Aww, are you telling me I'm in the circle of trust now?" the CIA agent taunted.

Forcing himself to not rise to the bait, Tony just narrowed his eyes. "I'm saying that you're an asshole, but a loyal asshole." Okay, so maybe he did bite the bait just a little. "You're willing to do about anything just for the sake of the mission, because you believe what you do is protecting your country." And your job, but Tony restrained himself from saying that out loud. Instead he pointed with his head at Crest. "I need you to show that willingness to this guy. But let me be clear: I won't tolerate torture. You can imply what you want, play your mind games, get in his personal space, but cross the line and I'll have you off this case and your boss will receive a recommendation from SecDef himself to suggest you take an early retirement. Are we clear?"

Kort glared at him and he could see he was about to say something you really shouldn't say to anyone, let alone your CO. But in the last moment, he glanced at Crest. Remembered why he was here, what was at stake. And reined in whatever he had wanted to say. Instead, he nodded shortly. "I won't touch him." He snorted disgustedly. "Won't need it anyway to break this wimp."

"We'll see. I'll go in with you. Fornell, you set up the recording then go finish with your own investigations." He had sent the tech guys away once he got the call his team was about to bring Crest in. This time, Balance would get no chance at getting a shot at his suspect.

* * *

><p>The next time Gibbs woke up, he was relieved to discover that Palmer had disappeared – and dismayed to see that Ducky had appeared instead. "You're too late for a lecture. Palmer and Dr Burns already chewed me out." Not very long after he had passed out, he had woken to probing by his surgeon, followed by a stern lecture from him. Once he had left, Palmer had surprised him by having a few choice words for him as well. The boy had more of a backbone than he had ever given him credit for.<p>

It shouldn't have surprised him. Ducky wouldn't have handpicked him to be his successor if he couldn't hold his own when it counted, just like he wouldn't have put so much time and work into forming and guiding Tony to be his right hand man and take over his team one day. Whilst he was a natural born leader, something he had noticed maybe five minutes after meeting the young man was that his confidence in himself in that regard was seriously lacking. Plus, there had been a slight attitude problem and a big reluctance to take on so much responsibility.

God, Tony had to hate his current temporary position. Gibbs scowled. It better just be temporary. He was in no way ready to lose his second in command to a promotion. Not that Tony wasn't ready. He'd been ready for his own team for years. Even despite his scrambled mind after that explosion and consequent memory loss Gibbs had known that without doubt. But he hadn't been ready to step down. Something, he suspected, Tony had known all along. So he held the team together while getting comfortable as the lead agent, but once Gibbs came back, he was glad to hand him his team back. No, Tony was more than ready. But he deserved the best and there was no doubt that the MCRT was the best and finest NCIS had to offer. Just like the MCRT deserved nothing less than the damn best senior field agent NCIS ever had.

"Good. I had hoped you came to see reason after that foolish attempt of yours. Really, Jethro, what on Earth have you been thinking?" Ducky said, his gaze stern but his voice mild.

Gibbs chose not to reply. Most likely Ducky knew exactly what he had been thinking anyway; more thanks to being friends for years than his degree in psychology. Instead, _he_ wanted answers. "How's the team?" Ducky leveled his eyes at him, pondering. Gibbs clenched his jaw. "Duck, I need to know." When that still didn't prompt an immediate answer, he glared. Blackmail it was. "I can't rest if I worry about my team." Tony may be ready to lead, but with the situation as it was, his team more or less broken apart, again, all bets were off. Judging from the short glimpse he had with Ziva, there was definite reason to worry.

Sighing, Ducky shook his head in exasperation. "Please, Jethro, you and me know very well that you'll worry either way."

This time Gibbs simply glared pointedly.

"But alas, if you insist: it is fine. Indeed, they are all worried and under a lot of pressure, not getting enough rest and sleep as they should, then again, what's new there? They focus on work. They take care of each other. They watch out for each other. Just like you trained them to do." Ducky got up to step to his bedside, gazing down at him. "You needn't worry so much."

Gibbs snorted. "Uh-huh. That's why's everyone so tense? Why DiNozzo has me on lockdown? Why I can practically feel how worried you are yourself? I may be bedridden but I still have my gut. And it's churning, Duck. It's churning badly."

"I didn't say there's nothing to worry about at all, Jethro," Ducky chided him mildly. "I merely said you should trust in your well trained team. And in Anthony. I'm sure I don't have to assure you that he doesn't just know in great detail what there is to do, he excels at _doing_ it."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" Gibbs shot back tersely. "You know him. He'll go on until his body shuts down and once whatever's going on is over, if he doesn't manage to kill himself in the process, he'll drown in guilt for whatever went wrong, whoever got killed. There are already two dead agents and me being shot down, while he was standing right beside me. It won't matter that there was nothing he could have done. Just like with Kate, he'll blame himself. And let's not even talk about what the brass will do to him, depending on the outcome of this operation."

Gibbs felt darkness pull at him again, but he pushed it away, keeping a tenuous grip on his consciousness. He was exhausted and he cursed his body for it. Talking this much didn't help at all. But sometimes, like now, talk was important. Unavoidable even. Being bound to this goddamn bed, all he had was words to have his team's six. Tony's six. Fornell promising to keep an eye on him was good, but he would only be able to go so far with him. At some point, Tony would stop listening to him. Outsmart him. That's where he needed his old friend to come in. If anyone besides him could make Tony listen to reason, it was Ducky.

"I can assure you I do my best to ensure he takes proper care of himself," Ducky said, looking him straight in the eyes; the unrelenting, unsuspected by others backbone Gibbs had admired since making the acquaintance of the usually so gentle ME shining through. "But he will only let me take care of his physical wounds, as usual. Especially now, with the heaviness of this much responsibility solely on his shoulders. He insist on not showing weakness and we both know that in his foolishly written book, feelings, let alone showing them, is one of the biggest weakness of a man. One, I may remind you, are yourself guilty of. For now, he works and doesn't allow himself the time to ponder too much. But as you said, once this case is over, he'll need someone to screw his head back on straight and ease his troubled mind." The backbone turned to sheer iron. "And it won't do him any good if the only person able to do that, the only man he trusts enough to listen to and take the words he says to him to heart, is unable to do so because he is still too weak due to his injuries not healing properly, or Heaven forbid, not being there at all because he wouldn't listen to his doctors and went on to kill himself by trying to leave the safety of this hospital bed."

Gibbs gritted his teeth. He should have seen that one coming. "I told you, I got it already."

"I certainly do hope so. You are worried about Anthony blaming himself for you being shot? Imagine the guilt he'll feel if you die, again while being on the boy's watch," Ducky still insisted, hardly listening to his protests.

The glare Gibbs gave him belied his exhaustion. "Enough, Duck. I said I got it."

Finally, his old friend let him off the hook with a last stern look but also with a much pleased smile. "Very well. Anthony will be delighted to hear that I could talk some sense into you. Jethro?"

But Gibbs didn't hear him anymore, having been unable to keep his exhaustion at bay any longer and having succumbed to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Let me put this another way," Kort said in a voice barely above a whisper, leaning close to Crest's ear, only a breath away from touching him. "We know that the pestis bacteria came from USAMRIID. We know you work there. And believe it or not, even NCIS can add two and two together. You took those bacteria and gave them to Balance. We have proof of that. That makes you a terrorist. You're Army, you know what we do with terrorists. You're lucky if we only send you to Guantanamo."<p>

"The president closed Guantanamo." Crest said, wetting his dry lips and nervously looked at Tony. Leaning back in his chair, his feet on the table and completely enraptured with his Tetris game, he gave no outward sign that he was even listening to the interrogation. But he was. And he found it very promising that Crest hadn't denied his involvement. For now though this was Kort's show.

"Yes, he did. You know why? Because the whole world knows of Guantanamo by now. You can't interrogate terrorists properly when the whole world has eyes on you and those sharks of reporters pay much more than the state can ever offer to the guards for some inside scope." Kort moved around the chair, leaning down as close to Crest's face on the other side, if not closer as he kept his arms encircling Crest from behind. But he didn't touch him. "Oh, we have a new Guantanamo that makes the old one look like paradise."

Crest paled. "I ... I ..."

"Would have heard about it?" Kort supplied helpfully and smiled, letting it show in his voice. "No, doctor, you wouldn't have. You don't hear about the prisoners we send there because they never existed. We're very good at making a person and all the traces leading to that person disappear. With you we won't even have all that much to do. No wife, no kids, all your friends either dead or most likely terrorists too. I won't need more than half an hour to erase your whole sad life."

"I'm not a terrorist!" Crest cried. "You can't do this to me!"

That was his cue. "Yes, we can," Tony said without looking up from his game. "Face it, Phil. You're going to live the rest of your sorry life in prison. It's up to you how long that rest of your life will be and in what kind of a prison you'll spend it. Say nothing and I promise you it will be a very short life, lived in hell, and within a week you'll beg for death. The pestis is released and causes a pandemic that strikes down billions of people, you'll still be in hell, awaiting death that will not come for years and years to come." Finally he looked up, his eyes hard and giving him a taste already of what would await him. "Or help us now, tell us all you know, first of the impending attacks and then of Balance and we'll see what kind of a deal we can work out for you. I imagine it will be life in a normal state prison, no death sentence." He shrugged and went back to playing. "Like said, your choice."

"You don't understand. They'll kill me!"

Nonchalantly, Tony looked up long enough to nod at Kort. "So will he, if you don't talk."

Shrugging, Kort moved to lean against the wall, always in Crest's sight though. "Personally, I'd prefer you _not _to talk. It's been way too long since I could do a proper interrogation. Damn pacifistic democrats," he spat with disdain.

Crest paled, shaking. "You can't do that," he repeated in a whisper.

Neither of them answered him this time, Tony just kept playing while Kort continued to stare at the Army doctor.

"What about the witness protection program? You can give me a new life, a new identity, can't you?" Crest pleaded.

"With you being a terrorist? Doubt it. If at all, your intel would have to be damn good. But you know what, Phil?" Tony asked, sitting up and putting his cell phone away in order to lean over the table and look Crest directly into his eyes. "I don't think you know all that much. No offense, but I wouldn't entrust you with critical information, let alone anything that could prevent them from fulfilling their mission. Because you're not part of Balance, are you? You're just a sorry bastard they blackmailed into helping them. Isn't it so?"

Crest looked down at the table, shaking more. Tony sighed and stood up. "This is useless. Call the guards. Have them transfer him to Guantanamo 2.0. Go with them. Maybe you can get something useful from him after all."

"Wait!" Crest cried. "Please no. I ... I don't know everything, that's true, only the Circle of Five knows everything. But I do know the targets. And no one knows the bacteria better than me. I can help you neutralize them."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Circle of five?"

Crest nodded eagerly. "That's the committee that runs Balance, makes all the decisions. They founded it, some are still holding their place in the Circle, other's chairs have been taken over by younger members as dedicated to the cause. With them everything started. Five elements, five senses, five continents. Believe me, Balance loves the number five. To them five is what three is for Catholics or six to satanists. Hence the Circle of Five. And why we'll hit five different continents tonight, with five individual targets per continent."

"Five?" Tony couldn't help but repeat, shocked. They couldn't secure five places, not if the targets were as big as they thought they would be. And how the hell could they stop the attacks in the other parts of the world? He looked at Kort and for once could see the shock mirrored in his face. That was it. All that was left to do was damage control, minimize the losses as much as they could. And maybe, just maybe, prevent at least some of the releases. But if they wanted to have any chance at all, they needed to act fast. "Okay, Phil. Cities and targets, now. Everything else has to wait until later."

Pale faced, Crest stared at him mistrustingly. Tony met his eyes and waited, trying to let him see that he would do what he could for him. If he talked, fast. "New York, the game. Washington, the Pentagon. LA, the Kodak theater. Chicago, the Soldier Field Stadium. Hawaii, Pearl Harbor. Mumbai, Beijing, Bangkok, Moscow, Tokyo. Paris, London, Madrid, Rome, Oslo. Cairo, Nairobi, Morocco, Tel Aviv, Johannesburg. Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and Sydney."

"That's not ..."

"Consistent? I know. But really, Europe and Asia are technically only one continent. And as South America really hasn't all that many rich and populated cities while hitting Australia five times is a bit of overkill, the Circle of Five decided to combine those two and still hit Europe and Asia with five places each." Crest shook his head. "Maximum damage to population and economy, that's the goal of these attacks."

"Why?" Tony asked. It wasn't really all that important, they knew most reasons already, but he still wanted it to know from someone who was close enough to Balance to know about things like that Circle of Five.

"Because this planet is our home and humanity treats this only home we have like crap. We pollute the soil, water and air, we destroy the natural defences nature has built and grown over billions of years, we kill species every day and let's not even talk about what the growing overpopulation does to our world. We need a drastic change or we'll all be doomed. Perhaps not this generation, maybe not even the next, but we have to think further than a few decades," Crest explained and for the first time, Tony could see that with the passion Crest showed as he spoke, he definitely had to be more than just an unwilling, blackmailed helper.

"By killing billions of people?" Kort asked incredulously. "What would that gain other than immense loss and pain? You think the people will forget their ways?"

"Decimating the population to a number this planet can sustain for starters. And by hitting all the major capitals of the world, the economy, the true evil monster in all of this, will stumble all over the world. That's where we will step in. Take over the governments, unify them all and manage this Earth with one government that isn't driven and enslaved by money and power but by the will to keep our home clean, whole and healthy so we all can have long lives, where everyone has enough food, enough work and the means to birth control, not just some few exclusive countries or parts of the world." There was even a slight glow on Crest's face as he talked about this envisioned future paradise. "We'll return balance to the world. So our children's children can have this good, worthy life, this generation has to make the sacrifice."

"That's insane."

Crest looked at the CIA agent. "Is it really? Wouldn't you want to live in a world like that? Wouldn't you want your children to grow up in a peaceful and safe environment like that? Sometimes, for things to get better, they first have to get worse. The Renaissance was born from the Middle Ages and the Black Death. The technical revolution came after the Spanish Influenza. The upswing in the Twenties and Fifties/Sixties was thanks to the two world wars. History proves that humanity only learns the hard way. And maybe, all those dark times, were brought about not by hazard but by choice. Helped along by a group of dedicated people. Today, those people are Balance."

Kort looked about to argue further but Tony needed to know a more important answer. "How will Balance guarantee that their members are able to take over? That there are enough of you left to change the world?" Remembering his own bout of plague, he thought he knew the answer already. "You've found an antidote, haven't you?" Crest's nervous eyes swiveled to him and he paled a bit. Cursing, Tony bent over the table between them. "You bastard. How much do you have? Do you have it at hand? Will there be enough to prevent a pandemic? To heal those exposed, in case we can't stop the releases?"

Taking a deep breath, Crest sat up straighter. "No, there isn't enough. I don't have much antidote left. But I can make more. There will still be a considerable loss of lives before we have enough for everyone but the death rate will maybe only be in the thousands rather than billions." He met Tony's eyes straight on for the first time since having been brought here. "Now how about that deal with witness protection? One that doesn't have me spending the rest of my life in prison?"

Disgusted, Tony leaned as far away from this despicable man as possible. He knew they were busted. They needed that antidote, unless a miracle happened. But maybe he could buy some time at least. See first how great the damage really would be come tomorrow. Before he could reply though, shrill alarms started to blare. His eyes growing wide, Tony jumped up.

Fire alarm!

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Ufff! Again sorry that it took so long. As mentioned before I think I had to finish a pretty big final paper for an education until mid August and then I left for a two-weeks-holiday in Spain where Internet is not found and accessed so easily, at least not where I'm staying. But at least I had time to finally finish this chapter. Hope you liked it as much as the rest of the story so far. I can't thank you all enough for the wonderful reviews and support you showed this little story of mine! As you can tell, we're nearing the finish line. Don't worry, there still are a few chapters to come, but we're definitely getting there and I hope you won't have to wait as long for the next chapter, now that my time is more free again. Enjoy! <em>


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Fire? Seriously? He thought not. Ignoring the alarm for the moment, Tony fixed Crest with his glare. "How will the bacteria be released?"

For once, Crest didn't hesitate to answer. "The water. They'll poison the water."

"So we just have to turn off the water?" That seemed too easy. "Is the water already poisoned or do we still have time?" Crest bit his lips. Losing his patience, Tony pounded hard on the table. "For God's sake, talk already!"

"No. We rigged bombs to go off at 22.00 this time. The blast will be enough to also release bacteria into the air. And to set off the sprinklers," Crest admitted.

Of course. He knew it couldn't have been that simple. "Where are the bombs placed?"

But Crest shook his head. "I don't know. I swear I don't! They told me the basics I needed to know to keep the bacteria alive and spread out to the maximum, but I wasn't involved in the whole rigging process."

That Tony believed. Grinding his teeth, he got up and moved towards the doors, barking his orders at Kort. "Stay with him. Do _not _leave him alone, under any circumstances. See if you can find out some more. I'll have to start the search teams and see what the hell's going on out there." The alarms still blared loudly. He didn't wait for Kort's reply and hurried back to the bullpen. His agents were already following procedure, evacuating the building via the stairs. Not that he could see any fire. Nor did he smell any smoke. He let out a sharp whistle, and everyone turned their heads toward him. "Stand down. Before we all leave the building I want it confirmed that there is a fire and the alarm isn't just another distraction."

Above him, Shelley came out of her office. "Autopsy and lab are clear, Sir."

Others were already on the phone, talking to the other departments. One by one they confirmed that there was no fire anywhere. Pounding up the stairs, Tony stormed into Vance's office, aiming for the phone first. He hurriedly informed the fire department that it was a false alarm, while he called up the emergency program. Looking up he saw that Bell and Keller had followed him up. Good. He put in the code from the MCRT then the other team leaders added theirs, as it needed three team codes to turn off an alarm. Well, the director had his own, but he didn't know Vance's and there hadn't been time yet for him to get his own. Once they were finished, he quickly gave the command to stop the fire alarm. As the klaxons muted, they all sighed with relief.

Unfortunately, time was still of the essence. Deciding that these two men wouldn't have come to help with the alarms if they were the traitors, he took the risk of trusting them, starting now. "Bell, grab some of your team and go to interrogation one. Kort's there, guarding the doctor who gave Balance the pestis bacteria. Tell him Sydney, that should let him know that I sent you. Make sure Dr Crest stays safe. He knows an antidote, we need him kept alive no matter what the circumstances."

Bell nodded grimly and left. Tony had no doubt that he'd rather die than let anyone get to Crest. Good. He turned to Keller. "We know the targets. They're hitting the Pentagon at 22.00. There's a bomb somewhere connected to the water supply. Take your team and go find that bomb. We don't know who we can trust, but call in any help you think is safe and start evacuating the Pentagon."

"Yes, Sir," Keller said, for once their animosity forgotten as he left too, followed by Tony, whose eyes swept over the room below. As he had thought, the MCRT's bullpen was empty, a laptop lying on McGee's desk. Going down, he inspected it. He could see nothing amiss, but then, this wasn't his field of expertise. Seeing Fornell leaving the elevator, he held up a hand to him as he flipped open his cell phone, pressing speed dial three. It was picked up on the first ring. "You okay, Probie?"

"Yeah, Tony. The alarm was a hoax?"

"Mmm. I think they used the confusion to neutralize the laptop. Come back to check it out. Tell Abby to pull the security feeds. I want to know who set off the fire alarms and who got to the laptop, assuming it was tampered with. I need to brief SecDef but call me as soon as you know something. Did you get in?" he asked with an afterthought.

"Yeah, finally. But it's a lot of data. Abby and I are going through it, so far we found nothing important but we really just only began."

Looking at the laptop in front of him, he frowned. "But ..."

"We swapped the hard disk for a new one," McGee explained, anticipating his question.

Tony grinned. "Smooth, Probie, very Covert Affairs of you." He hung up to McGee's sputter, still grinning. God, that felt good. But seeing Fornell scowling impatiently at him, he was reminded that there were still a myriad things to do. Most of all, tell SecDef everything they knew – but not over a video link. With everything that had happened, he didn't trust anything anymore. He would talk directly to SecDef. Maybe that would take up more time than they really had but it was still safer than risking letting Balance know everything they'd learned in the past few hours. He waved Fornell to follow him, heading for the elevators.

"Where are we going? And what the hell happened here?" the FBI agent asked as he fell into step beside him.

"Someone set off the fire alarms. Another distraction," Tony explained, entering the elevator car.

Fornell frowned, also coming into the car. "The laptop?"

"Yeah. But my team secured the data beforehand. And Bell's team and Kort have Crest secured."

"Did he talk?"

"Oh yeah. And it's not good. But still, at least now we have a chance," Tony said, punching the button for the parking level. "We probably can't stop all the attacks but with a bit of luck, we can minimize the damage." There would probably still be hundreds, if not thousands of lives lost but he couldn't think about that right now. They still had a little over eight hours. Time to send in search teams, call off the at-risk events, warn other governments. And they had the source for the antidote. It wasn't perfect, but it sure as hell was a lot better than what they'd had before.

Fornell nodded grimly, no doubt having similar thoughts as he had. "You still haven't told me where we're going."

They arrived on the parking level and the doors opened. "To the White House," Tony answered and headed outside, leaving a stunned Fornell behind.

To be honest, he didn't feel much better. When he had called SecDef to inform him that he had new information that he only would tell him in person and SecDef had told him that in that case he'd best come meet him at the White House he had almost balked and relayed the report over the video after all. Swallowing his slight nausea at the thought of where he would be headed in a short time, he agreed, but on a desperate whim said he'd take Fornell with him. To be frank, he didn't want to go there alone. He'd prefer Gibbs on his six, but in his absence, Fornell would do. Besides, he knew the intel on Attorney General Bishop. There hadn't been time yet for a briefing between them.

Still, he was nervous. Guys like him didn't go brief anyone in the White House. He was just a Senior Field Agent for God's sake! SecNav briefed the people in the White House. Or the Under Secretary or if at all, the Director, but not ... But of course, there was the whole reason why he was on his way to the White House now. With Vance and SecNav gone and not able to trust the Under Secretary he was the only one left. Lucky him.

Ugh. He just hoped he didn't break anything. Or puke on SecDef's shoes.

Another thought came to him and he paled, definitely having to swallow down bile now. God, he hoped he really only had to brief SecDef and not - not someone else ...

* * *

><p>By the time Fornell and DiNozzo returned to the Navy Yard from the White House, NCIS headquarters hummed with busy activity. Teams readied themselves for their missions, the agents checking their weapons and equipment while intel flashed over the big flat screens and the team leaders briefed their people about the impending mission.<p>

DiNozzo had called ahead as soon as they had left the White House, getting everything in motion. Halfway through their meeting, right after DiNozzo had briefed him on everything they'd learned from Crest and the attempted sabotage actions, SecDef called the Secretary for Foreign Affairs in. And when DiNozzo stopped him from also calling Bishop, he had called the Chief of Staff to join them. At that point DiNozzo had looked ready to faint. But the boy had stood his grounds, especially when they challenged him on his suspicions against the Attorney General. Gibbs would be proud of him. Heck, _he_ was proud of the boy, despite not really having any claims to him to justify that. But as he didn't plan to ever tell DiNozzo as much that wasn't really a problem, was it?

The White House was busy with informing other governments of the impending attacks on their cities and preparing an official press release. DiNozzo had pointed out that under the circumstances, with the evacuation of the Pentagon and the canceling of several major events, not to mention these big joined operations in the five cities, there was no way to keep this all under wraps. The Chief of Staff had agreed immediately, but they had all also agreed that it would be unwise to mention the plague.

Meanwhile, DiNozzo and him would coordinate the police, FBI and NCIS and whoever else there was in law enforcement to search the five targets. The elevator stopped on the level of MTAC. Fornell took three steps before he noticed that DiNozzo wasn't following him. Keeping the doors from closing, he raised an eyebrow.

Slumped against the back wall of the car, eyes firmly shut, the boy looked like he'd rather face a firing squad than go out there. He could relate to the feeling. Unfortunately, it wasn't time yet for the boy to crash and bury himself in a hole. "Come on, DiNutso. You can bail and wail like a girl over the unfairness of the situation after we've gotten those bastards."

DiNozzo's head shot up, glaring at him. "Must really be hard for you to not only have the lead of this operation handed to NCIS, but me of all people, huh, Toby? Poor FBI having to be content with only second place."

"I'll try to see the positive side of it," Fornell replied with a sardonic smile. "If you screw up, I can just tell Gibbs that I've been right about you all along, plus the FBI is fine off with NCIS having to solely take the blame."

The boy straightened and stepped up to him, a smile playing on his lips as well. "Too bad, Toby. You'll be sorely disappointed then." Striding by him with new energy and a slight swing returning to his step, he didn't see the wide grin with which Fornell followed him.

As DiNozzo moved to the mid-level of the stairs to let out a loud whistle that had every head turning upwards, he joined his fellow liaison agents at the railing in front of MTAC, coming to stand besides Lorn from NSA.

"DiNozzo sure seems to like these grand speeches," the old man grumbled.

Fornell shrugged. "He earned it."

Lorn sneered, shaking his head.

"Listen up, everyone," DiNozzo called out before looking at his secretary who was standing at his old desk. "The videolinks to the other NCIS bases airing already?"

The secretary and McGee nodded, pointing to several big screens.

DiNozzo nodded at them. "By now you're all aware of what a great threat our country is facing. If we don't stop it, in a few hours bombs will go off here in Washington, New York, Chicago, LA and Hawaii, that'll release the plague. I don't have to tell you what that would mean, but I'll say it anyway: thousands of people will get sick and die if we're lucky, a pandemic will erase more than half of our population if we're not so lucky. But we have a chance to stop it. Together with local police forces, the FBI, CIA, NSA, Homeland and every other law enforcement agency we have a chance to stop it from happening. We have to stop it."

It was silent in the room, no one daring to make a sound, all enthralled by the energetic man who was going to lead them into the biggest operation of their life. DiNozzo leaned on the railing, looking at everyone before continuing, very seriously. "You've already received your orders. These are dangerous tasks and I wish I could guarantee you that they're not suicide missions. But I can't, nor do we have the luxury of asking for volunteers. We need every single one of you in order to stop these bastards. I can only promise you that I'll do everything in my power to have your six out there. And if you can't come back, your families will hear from me personally that you died a hero." He smiled. "But then again, we're used to be underestimated, aren't we? So go out there and show Balance and the whole world what stuff NCIS agents are made of! Show them that they can't hurt us, that on our watch, no lives will be senselessly taken! Kick their ass!"

A roar of almost reverent approval answered him from the assembled agents below. Even Fornell had to fight against a sudden very patriotic humbleness at listening to Jethro's second in command. Boy, his old friend would never forgive him for being here to witness this moment while he was stuck in a hospital bed, missing out on all the fun.

"Semper Fi!" DiNozzo called over the uproar, again being answered thunderously by his agents. He nodded, then with a wave sent everyone off, before giving Fornell and Ziva a signal. Simultaneously, they turned to the persons standing beside them, putting their cuffs on them.

"Agent Walther Lorn, Agent Ida Lopez, you are both under arrest for treason, terrorism and collaboration in the murders of Special Agents Matthews and Perth and the attempted murder of Special Agent Gibbs. Among other things," DiNozzo said loud enough for the agents in question to hear them, glaring icily at both of them. He nodded to the holding cells. "Get them out of my sight, read them their rights and put them on suicide watch."

Lorn was shaking with rage. "What's the meaning of this? This is preposterous!"

"You were good at covering your tracks," Fornell told him, shoving him before him. "But like DiNozzo said: you underestimated NCIS. They had no trouble linking Attorney General Bishop to you, nor with the phone calls you placed to him over the last few days, or finding the money trail that led us directly to Balance. Oh, by the way, don't think your old buddy can help you. Bishop was arrested an hour ago already," he informed the NSA agent with great pleasure.

Lorn paled before his eyes turned to ice as he stopped struggling. "Doesn't matter. You can't stop us now. The best you and that snotty boy can hope for is to save a few lives but you'll never manage to avert every attack."

"Maybe not," Fornell admitted, the knowledge weighing heavily on his mind. "But we can and will stop you from destroying our country and society. And now, we know who our enemy is. Within no time your precious Circle of Five will be on the most wanted list of every law enforcement organization all over the world. It won't take us long to find and destroy you," he vowed, silently making a promise to himself to not rest until this goal was achieved.

* * *

><p>Tim looked at the bustling energy all around him, feeling a bit lost. There wasn't anything he could do here anymore, not really. Sure, going through the recovered data from the Cullums, but that really wasn't something Abby or the tech guys couldn't also do. He wanted to go out there. He was a field agent after all, wasn't he? His place was in the field, finding those bombs, helping save all those lives. But without a team, he was stuck in here, doing little to nothing.<p>

"Can you believe this? This is crazy!" Abby exclaimed, pacing up and down between their desks, never tiring from looking around the bullpen, taking in all the preparations. "I'm so excited and bumped up, but at the same time I'm so scared for everyone and what could happen. God, this is big, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Tim sighed, not able to stop himself from looking over to Miller's team with longing. Yeah, this was big, probably the biggest operation in his career and he had to watch it play out from the sidelines.

"I'm just glad that for once at least I don't have to worry about all you guys," Abby said, the relief evident in her voice and whole body language.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Abs." Seemingly out of nowhere, Tony appeared behind her, drawing her in for a quick hug and a kiss on her temple before coming to stand in front of Tim, looking at him with a serious expression he'd rarely seen on his Senior Field Agent. "We have four probies and new transfers here who haven't been assigned to anyone yet." He put a stack of files on his desk. "They're your temporary team. Grab your gear, you'll head out in thirty minutes to go help with the search in New York."

His team? Flabbergasted, Tim stared at the files, then up to Tony, his mind blank, but panic swiftly swelling up, the more the implications of his latest orders set in.

Tony smiled knowingly and laid a hand on his shoulder, the contact almost jolting him. "Yeah, _your_ team. I wasn't kidding up there, you know? I need every last one of you out there. You've been my SFA for four months, stepped in as my replacement whenever I was away and have eight years on MCRT under your belt, under the lead of legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You're more than ready to lead your own missions. I just wish there was time for you to actually learn to know your teammates." He sighed. "But I'll be there, Tim, monitoring all missions, including yours. If you need help, just call in." His serious expression turned to a wide grin. "But you won't need it, will you? After all, you can't shame your training officer like that, can you?"

Tim blinked, the realization that he was about to go out with his own team, as team _leader,_ finally sinking in. For a moment he was tempted to tease Tony as always, mentioning something along the lines that he knows better than disappointing Gibbs like that. But then he remembered that this might very well be a mission he wouldn't return from. And in that case, he desperately needed to tell Tony something, as he realized with a start. He stood up and looked him straight in the eyes. "No, Tony, don't worry. I won't disappoint you. You'll be proud of me, you'll see."

Tony held his eyes and nodded ever so slightly before he smiled and slapped his back again. "Aww, Probie. Don't you know? I've always been proud of you."

There was suddenly a very big lump in his throat, but Tim at least managed to nod and smile back shyly in acknowledgment of the unexpected praise. Like their boss, Tony seldom had words of reassurance for his junior agents, even if he didn't hold back with them as much as Gibbs. So to hear something so positive from him was a big deal and meant a lot to McGee. But it also brought home the fact that he had a very dangerous mission ahead, plus the responsibility for the lives of four people he didn't even know yet! At that thought his stomach churned. Badly. Swallowing down the bile, he concentrated on not throwing up, determined to not give Tony such ammunition for life.

But with a sly grin, his Senior Field Agent slapped his back. "And because I'm such a great training officer, McGreen, here's a little parting advice: always head to the head before a mission. You never know when's the next time you can go, besides, if you bite the dust, the less there is in your bladder, the better, if you get my drift." He started to walk away, but turned back to him with an even wider grin. "Oh, and don't forget to rinse your mouth. You don't want to die with the taste of bile in your mouth, do you?"

Exasperated, McGee glared at his disappearing back. But as his eyes returned to the stack of files on his desk, his gut turned upside down again. Quickly he mumbled an excuse to Abby and hurried towards the bathroom.

Damn Tony for always having to be right!

* * *

><p>"I demand to know on what grounds you are arresting me," Lopez fumed, glaring through the bars at Ziva. "This is ridiculous! I'm a team leader in a federal agency. I swore to protect my country and this is the thanks I get for my efforts?"<p>

Ziva merely looked back, taking in the fury and what seemed honest indignation. But she thought she could also detect calculation and a flash of panic in Lopez' eyes. Then again, she never had liked the fiery Latina women. While she heartily approved of having more female agents in charge, sadly, they were seldom people you could easily befriend. Either they were too career hungry to be trusted or, like in Lopez' case, trying to get into any pants that could ultimately help them move up. So while it unnerved her that in organizations like NCIS and also Mossad men were still mainly in charge, she also had to admit that with a few exceptions, she herself preferred to work with men.

Of course, that could lead to problems as well. The recent rift between her and her partner was a perfect example of one such.

"Oh, I get it. This was all your doing, wasn't it? You were jealous of me since the day I came here and took over my team," Lopez accused her with narrowed eyes. "That I have my own team while you're still stuck as a junior agent. That Tony was more interested in me than he ever was in you."

She couldn't help it, at that ridiculous thought Ziva had to laugh. It was true, Lopez had flirted with Tony from the moment she had joined the office, but she knew her partner. Of course he had flirted back, always had a smile for Lopez, but there was never real interest on his part. She had no problems detecting the signs when he was truly interested in a woman, having had to witness it more times than she cared for. It was only his feelings concerning her she could not read.

The laugh did not help in calming Lopez down. "If anyone here's a traitor, it's you. You already betrayed your nation and your own father by turning your back on your heritage, who says you're not fooling us now too? You're the mole and now you're trying to blame it on me!"

Ziva shook her head, still smiling. "That is a nice theory. But we have you on tape starting the fire alarm and then using the resulting chaos to sabotage the recovered laptops with a magnet, erasing all data. How do you explain that?"

Lopez paled a bit, but didn't give up. "Please. Video tapes can be manipulated." She smiled nastily. "Especially with someone like McGee at your beck and call. Tell me, who's better in the sack, the geek or the jock?"

"That's something you'll never know," Ziva smiled, having a bit of fun with her before she narrowed her eyes, the woman'sridiculous accusations starting to get on her nerves. "We will go with a brush through your life and all your records. No doubt we will find further links to Balance. If I were you I would rather think about how you can avoid the death sentence you certainly will receive for your treason instead of trying to throw unfounded accusations towards me. Maybe, if you tell us where the bombs are exactly and how we can disable them and everything else you know about Balance, we can help you."

Lopez held her eyes for a long moment before she straightened and stepped back. "I have nothing to say to you. And just so you know, you never intimidated me. I certainly won't start now to fall for your Mossad tricks."

"As you wish." With a shrug, Ziva turned around and left without another word, unwilling to lose more time with this unpleasant woman. Though she hoped that at some point, after the immediate danger was over, she would get the chance to interrogate the foolish woman properly and show her what her 'Mossad tricks' truly looked like.

"Did she have anything to say?"

Suppressing the urge to jump, she looked up to see that Tony was waiting for her in the little alcove behind the stairs. Annoyed that he had been able to creep up to her like this, she glared at him. "No, nothing of interest. She did try to knit it that I set her up and am the real traitor though."

"Twist, Ziva. You twist it," he corrected her with amused exasperation. It was good to see him smiling. Not just because his smile had an unexplainable power over her that dangerously threatened the steadiness of her knees but because he was exhausted and it just didn't feel right when he smiled as rarely as in the past couple days. But then he looked behind her and the smile vanished, replaced by this serious version of him that she respected but was also starting to view with trepidation. "I trust that she's still breathing?"

She rolled her eyes. "She is unharmed."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Not one bruise that wasn't there before you arrested her?" he asked doubtfully.

Again she shrugged. "She may have run into a few walls and doors on the way to the cell," she admitted, unabashed. After all, this woman was partly responsible for putting Gibbs in the hospital and injuring Tony. Not to mention the deaths of their fellow agents. In her eyes, she deserved a lot worse.

Tony nodded, but thought better of asking more. Instead, he changed the topic, still being very serious. "I'm sending McGee to the scene in New York with four probies and new transfers."

"Not ideal but you do not have to worry, I will have his six so those probies will not end up killing him," she assured him immediately, secretly glad to hear that she could head out. She had assumed he would assign her to one of the other teams but she preferred to have at least one partner out in the field she could trust. Even if it was just McGee. Not that he was a bad agent, not at all. But there was no point in denying that in matters of the field, he still had the least experience of them all and that both Tony and Gibbs were faster and the better marksmen. Just like McGee was hands down the best researcher they had and, as she had learned, in an investigation, research was as important as the field work, if not more.

But to her surprise, Tony shook his head. "I wish I could send you with him but I need you to take Ida's team and go help with the search and evacuation of the Soldier Field Stadium in Chicago."

She frowned. "Take her team?" she repeated, wondering if she had understood him correctly.

"As team lead, yeah," Tony sighed. "I've already informed them. They're not happy, still confused and in shock over Ida's betrayal, maybe some even in denial. But as much as I hate to send them out at all, there simply is no other choice. And you have more leading experience than Mark. While I don't really like the idea of them having your back, I do trust you to keep them as safe as possible under the circumstances and to be able to make them listen to your orders."

"Mark?" she asked, though his serious compliment, rare as they came, had her secretly very pleased.

It was Tony's turn to roll his eyes. "Mark York? Her SFA?" Seeing that she still gave him a blank look, he shook his head. "Seriously, Ziva, you need to put more effort in getting to know our fellow agents. You never know when a situation like this one comes along that forces you to trust your life to them. At least knowing their names would be a good start."

Unwilling to admit that there was maybe some truth in his words she ignored them and nodded. "Okay. I should go prepare to leave. And introduce myself to the team," she added as an afterthought, starting to move towards her desk in order to go grab her gear. Also, she would need to visit the armory to get more efficient weapons and firepower.

But Tony stopped her by grabbing her arm and pulling her close. "Hey. You watch your back out there, understood? I expect you to get back in one piece. We still have unfinished business. I may not particularly look forward to sorting it out, but you don't get out of this by dying, got it? Once this is over, you and me, we're going to sit down and have a long overdue talk."

Her heart beating ridiculously faster with unabashed hope flaring up and warming her from the inside out at his impassioned words, she slowly nodded. "Got it," she promised softly.

It didn't matter that she knew better than to make such promises, when it was very unlikely that it was within her power to stop herself from being killed in action. Every time any of them started a new day, she was well aware that it could be their last. They all knew it and had still chosen this life for themselves, ready and willing to die for their country, their government and organizations and for their partners. But she _could_ promise to do everything in her power to come back, and she knew that he understood that was all she could say and that he didn't ask for more. And for him, she vowed silently to herself as she left with a last smile at him, for this chance to perhaps have a life with him one day, she would damn sure come back from the dead, if necessary.

* * *

><p>After Ziva had left, Tony moved to the foot of the stairs where he paused, looking at the busy bullpen. McGee was back from throwing up and busy studying the personnel files. He still looked a tad green around the nose and his shoulders had a definite slump with the heavy responsibility he'd dropped on him. But his back was straight and the determined look on his face reassured Tony that he had made the right call to entrust these few agents left to his command.<p>

It was normal for the probie to feel nervous, even a bit nauseous in the face of having to lead his very first team, and in one major mission none the less. In fact he preferred people who could be this affected to those who were too eager and proud, who'd neglect their preparation. Besides, in his experience, those who threw up before or after their mission seldom lost it at a critical point during the operation.

He hadn't thrown up before his first case as lead detective but it had been close. And he sure had spent time in the abode of the white porcelain gods plenty afterwards. Actually, right now he wasn't feeling too great either. He hated the fact that he had to send out McGee and Ziva on their own, without at least having each other watching their six.

Looking for Ziva he spotted her at the desks of Ida's team, instructing them. With a frown he watched them listening to her with obvious displeasure and in Mark's case even open dislike and the lousy feeling in his gut worsened. He could relate to them, really, but then again, especially Mark with his Marine training should know better than to question his orders. Of course though, it sure didn't help that the orders came from someone who only yesterday had been his equal and not his superior. Plus, they were friends and he'd probably figured the team lead was a sure thing for him.

But while Tony liked Mark and thought him a very good agent, Ziva was simply better and more experienced in these kinds of missions. He knew it was normally a bad idea to send anyone out with an unfamiliar team, let alone one that still reeled from the discovery of having had a traitor as team lead. Almost as bad an idea as sending out a team lead probie with a bunch of other probies.

But what other choice did he have? Keep them here while every last agent they had was needed in the field in order to stop a catastrophe from happening? Especially when he knew that both Ziva and McGee were more than capable of taking the lead on these missions? And could watch their own backs _and_ their team's, even under these circumstances?

So he had made the call like a good little director was supposed to. But inwardly - he was their SFA, had trained them for years, was responsible for their safety. They were his friends, if not more than that. He loved Tim like a brother and Ziva ... Well, Ziva was Ziva. To have to send them out on something that could very well be a suicide mission was killing him. But it wasn't just them. He was responsible for every NCIS agent at that moment and he was sending them all to their possible deaths.

The thought was overwhelming. Again he felt the bile rise and he knew, this time he could only hope to keep it back long enough to reach the bathroom.

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: first of all thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! They're an overwhelmingly boost and motivation. So here we had a last breather before we dive right into the action. The calm before the storm. In that sense, watch out, the alarms are soon going to ring - hopefully! <em>


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Tim tried to inconspicuously watch his agents. _His_ agents. He still had trouble believing that Tony had truly given him this team lead. It was crazy. No one else would have given a junior agent a chance like this, in a situation like this. But still Tony had enough faith in him to appoint him the team lead, despite the heat he certainly would get for his choice. You didn't need a MIT degree to know that Tony would have to face accusations of favoritism, not just for giving him a team, but also for putting Ziva ahead of Mark York.

Tony may have made a great deal of his time here at NCIS close to a living hell, with all the jokes at his expense, the pranks, the hazing. Sometimes, Tony was out of line, there was no other word for it. But, looking at his team now, he also knew that a big part of it had been Tony's way of preparing him for just this. To hold his own in the field, even against hard-asses like Gibbs. Or Tony. To be able to go on missions that could very well be suicidal. He remembered how angry he'd been when Tony had fooled him a few years back so he wouldn't get that assignment in Iraq, instead snatching the job for himself and Jardine. Tim had felt deeply betrayed by someone he had thought was his friend. It was only when Tony had volunteered him for the mission in Somalia that he'd truly understood that Tony's actions had indeed been those of a friend. Back then, he hadn't been ready yet to go to a warzone, needing some more years and experience under his belt. And then, when he _had_ been ready, Tony had still made sure that he'd be there to have his six, just in case. And now, he was sending him out on his own.

With his own team.

The little time he had before they had to head out to the plane and the ride down to New York he had used to memorize the plans of the stadium and then the personal files of his new agents. He knew them all by name, of course, but he had decided to only think of them as Probies 1 to 4. It was easier to stay detached from the thought that he was possibly leading them to their deaths. Besides, once this mission was over, hopefully successfully, they'd be assigned to one of the existing teams while he'd go back to the MCRT. No need to get too attached to them.

Probie 1 wasn't really a probie anymore. She was a transfer from their office in San Diego where she had held the position of Senior Field Agent. Former Air Force. She was two years older than him and obviously higher ranking than him, with a lot more experience in the field. Logic told him, she should have gotten this team. But Tony had trusted him to do this job and he was adamant that he would not make his SFA regret his decision. Probie 1 had said nothing at be assigned under him, but he got the feeling, should he make just one mistake, she'd be there to step in and take charge. So he'd have to watch himself with her.

Probie 2 was a former cop like Tony, fresh out of FLETC. He'd been on the beat for four years before making detective and working on narcotics in Metro PD. His record was impeccable and very contrary to Tony, the guy hardly spoke and he had yet to see a smile from him, let alone hear a joke. Maybe it was just the extraordinary circumstances, but he thought not. And again, it gave him a whole new appreciation of the comic relief Tony brought to his every day. Sure, sometimes the exuberant agent went too far, but it made dealing with their difficult job indeed easier. He'd kill for a joke right now that would steer his thoughts away from what lay ahead.

Probie 3 came from Legal. It was probably unfair to her, but he was very weary of having her on his team and even more so of having her on his six. She spoke five languages and her record showed good results in both shooting and hand-to-hand combat; still, after Lee had been a traitor and Jardine being Jardine, he just had a hard time having much confidence in her.

Probie 4 would be probably the most useful on this mission. An explosives expert in the Marines, he had recently left the corps after the death of his wife to be there for his twin sons. It was also what made McGee swallow down bile again and again. He was already the only parent left for his boys and now he was taking him on a possible suicide mission. And there was no question who would have to disarm the bomb as soon as they found it.

But he had no choice. Tim had to charge his agents with what they could do best and would promise the best outcome for this mission. And hope for the best.

* * *

><p>"You got any last instructions for us?"<p>

Ziva looked up to see her temporary Senior Field Agent standing in front of her. She had been going through the mission ahead of her in her mind and wasn't happy about the interruption nor the derisive tone in which it had been delivered. She leveled her gaze at York. "No."

Turning her gaze out again at the Chicago skyline she wasn't really seeing, she was aware of the glare and the presence still pressing down on her. With an inward sigh, she saw no choice but to address the offending man again. "Something else you need, Special Agent York?"

A muscle in his jaw clenched. "Just because you're sleeping with the boss, don't think I'll let you lead my team into this disaster, Agent David."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, briefly entertaining the vision of pounding a fist into York's solar plexus before double kicking his stomach and head. But Gibbs - and Tony - had taught her better over the years. What a shame. "It does not matter what you think, Special Agent York. Balance has declared war on not just your country, but humanity. Your director, appointed by the Secretary of Defense, gave you an order. You can follow that order or you can stay in this bus while the rest of your team will give their lives, if necessary, to stop this attack. It is your choice. But my director gave me an order and I will not go back before I fulfill that order or die."

She kept hold of his eyes, saw how the irritated man clenched his fists. 'Nice, Ziva. But now that you've busted his balls, you might want to remember that this is the guy who's supposed to have your back,' an inner voice that sounded annoyingly like Tony told her sarcastically.

Scowling, she bit her lip, before she sighed. "Look. I understand the position you are in is not easy. You just learned your team leader is a traitor. And yes, Tony put me ahead of you, giving me team lead. But he did not do this because I am his partner or whatever you think the reason is. He put me in charge because he knows that I ran point on several similar missions for Mossad. You may not like it, but I am your best chance of getting home alive." York did not look as if her speech was doing much to improve his opinion of her. She took a deep breath. Tony trusted her to do this. And he trusted this guy to have her back, and she trusted him in his decision. He had an almost impeccable instinct where people were concerned. Way better than hers, as much as she hated to admit this. "Mark, I can bring you all home safe. But not without your help. The others will follow your example. So I ask you to trust Tony and me to have nothing but the safety of you, your team and the people of Chicago in mind and follow your orders. Can you do that for your team? Your country?"

To her amazement, York actually seemed to contemplate her words, albeit unwillingly. She was even more surprised when he gave a short nod. "You better don't screw this up. Or I'll not hesitate to put an official complaint to whoever will be in charge once this is over."

"That is only fair," she nodded, proud that she had managed to secure his cooperation. Tony would be proud too, she bet.

Good. Maybe it would prove to him that she was ready to listen to what he had to say. And willing to do what it took for him giving her another chance.

Their bus came to a screeching stop in front of the Soldier Field Stadium. First though, she needed to get back to him. She needed to get them all back home. So she pushed every thought of Tony back into the deepest part of her mind, for he had not stayed out of it since the day she met him all those years ago, and concentrated on the mission ahead.

* * *

><p>"As we said, a joint operation under the lead of Interim Director Anthony DiNozzo of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, is underway as we speak in order to prevent the bombs from detonating and destroying some of this country's most beloved buildings. As it is still an ongoing operation, we cannot answer any questions yet. You will all get a chance for that once the immediate threat is over. We only released this official statement as it is obvious the evacuation of the five targets could not go undetected and we do not want any wild theories scaring the citizens more than they already are by the evacuation. Now, let's move on to the state dinner the President will still attend this evening."<p>

With a jerky movement, Gibbs turned off the television. Part of him wanted to believe what he had just heard on the TV to be a hoax. He may be out of the loop, but after everything he'd managed to learn about what was going on, he just knew this was the mess he'd left Tony with to deal with. And if that hadn't been confirmation enough, one look at the grave expression on Ducky's face would have been enough. Just like he knew that the unthinkable news the press secretary had just told the nation was not all there was to know. Of course there was more. There was always more. "What is it, Duck? What aren't they telling us?"

His old friend looked back at him and he had no trouble seeing the silent cursing Ducky was subjecting himself to for his lack of facial control. But he remained silent, turning his back on him.

All right. Gibbs may be too weak to get out of bed and go help, but his mind still worked fine. Really, it wasn't that hard to figure out. "Nuclear or biological?" he asked grimly as it was the only thing that made sense of everything. Well, most of everything.

Ducky threw him an exasperated glare over his shoulder, one he met with his own. He was tired of being kept in the dark. "Look, Duck, either you tell me or I will call in a few favors. You know I'll find out soon enough, it will just eat more of my energy the longer it takes," he argued icily.

With a sigh, Ducky turned around to face him again. "Biological," he admitted tersely. "Really, Jethro, when will you learn to respect what proper rest means? We had a reason not to tell you, my worried friend."

"I'd rather know what my team's having to face than have to imagine a worst case scenario," Gibbs hissed, his hands curling into fists. Though he had to admit that no, knowing there were biological weapons involved didn't ease his mind at all. "Which toxin is it? Anthrax? Smallpox? CX?" Ducky looked down and Gibbs got a real bad feeling. "Ducky?"

This time, the ME's sigh spoke of wariness and concern, and not just for Gibbs. "Yersina Pestis."

It was certainly the drugs they gave him that had him hallucinating. There was no way Ducky had just told him that his Senior Field Agent was facing the agent of a medieval pandemic for the second time around. The machine monitoring his heart showed the increase in its rate and he felt as if there suddenly wasn't enough air in the room anymore.

Quickly, Ducky stepped to the side of his bed and put a hand on his shoulder, as much to squeeze it reassuringly as to hold him down, stopping him from trying to get out of bed again. "Now, Jethro, try to stay calm and keep in mind that Anthony is running this operation. Meaning he is safe in MTAC overseeing the different missions and nowhere near the field, or the possibility of exposing himself," the ME told him in a soothing voice that actually did manage to slice through his panicked haze, reassuring him somewhat.

Once the initial panic ebbed down, he frowned. "They gave him point? Not Fornell or one of the other agencies?"

"No. Anthony seems to have really left quite an impression on the Secretary of Defense. He himself not only appointed him interim director but also gave him the lead of this operation."

Gibbs' frown deepened. Yeah, Tony, in full leader mode, would make an impression, all right. It was also convenient though to give the lead of such an operation to the unlucky underdog. Easier to blame and hang out as scapegoat if the operation failed. But of course, what they could hardly know, was that if the teams sent out failed and the plague was released, growing into a pandemic, Tony wouldn't be alive long enough to actually be there to have all the blame dumped on him. Either he would leave the safety of MTAC to go help his people out there, getting blown up in the process, or worse, risking exposing himself again, or soon he'd find a bullet or knife or something to take his life whilst out in the field. He wasn't the type to eat his gun, but there were more ways to make damn sure to not see the sunrise again and DiNozzo had played at the edge of them enough times to have no trouble finding that edge and letting himself shoot way past it.

"What about McGee and Ziva? They with him?" he asked, because he may not be able to do a damn thing about it, but he had trained his team to watch out for each other. As long as the junior agents had his senior's six, things were maybe not so bad. He knew Tony would do everything for his partners and not subject them to the same pain and horror he had lived through when Kate had been killed right in front of them. Not voluntarily.

But the concerned expression on Ducky's face told him everything he needed to know, even before the gentle words reached him. Closing his eyes, he turned his face away, unwilling to let even this man who was his best and longest-standing friend see the panic and fear that seized him at the thought of his junior agents being on scene with their own teams, facing a terrorist attack while Tony was back all alone with no one watching his six, making sure he wouldn't go too far in his need to protect his agents and the world.

Gritting his teeth he reminded himself that he had trained them well. That they were the best damn agents he had ever had the honor of working with. That they were resourceful, sharp and knew how to watch their backs. That Tony wasn't alone but had Abby and Fornell there to talk some sense into him, should the need arise. It helped. A little. Mostly though he couldn't shake the helplessness, the panic, that after this day was over he might not just have lost one of them, but maybe even all of them.

One would be bad enough, but if it was Tony or all of them - then he knew all these efforts to save him would have been in vain. He'd lost enough. Comrades, friends, his mother, Mike, Kate, Jenny. Shannon. Kelly. He'd fought enough. If this world was so cruel to now take away his team too, to rip away from him the life of the man he'd become to love as a son ...

No. No, in that case he was done fighting. He would use whatever strength there was left in him to bring down the ones responsible and if that fight didn't kill him, then by God, this time there was nothing left to stop him from pulling that trigger.

* * *

><p>"We found the bomb."<p>

Tony felt a surge of adrenaline racing through his body - and once again cursed his being stuck in MTAC with no way of expending at least some of that adrenaline. Stupid suit-and-tie-job! Okay, so maybe as a field agent he also wore suits most of the time, but that was a choice of style not a necessity. If it had been, Gibbs would most likely never have even considered joining NCIS.

In order to calm his racing pulse, he breathed out before he calmly responded. "Roger that, Team W. Where is it located, and can you disable it?"

The MTAC techs switched the big screen to the sight of the Pentagon, on one part the live feed from the choppers they had in the air, on the other the maps of the building. "As Crest said, it's connected directly to the water tanks. We have a bomb squad in place, looking at it right now. After the first inspection it seems like it's doable, but it won't be easy." Keller paused for a moment and Tony and the rest of them could hear a low murmur in the background. "Sir, that was the bomb squad. They were able to open the bomb and confirm that the agent is in place but also that the disarming is proving to be more challenging than anticipated."

"The building is evacuated?"

"Yes, Sir, only our teams and PFPA remain on scene."

Tony's heart wanted to tell them to clear the building and save their lives. To not take the risk. That the building didn't matter as much as their lives and the lives of their families that would be forever changed if their loved ones were killed or crippled. But he couldn't. This was the Pentagon. Not only was it a National Historic Landmark, after 9/11 it also became a sign of hope and strength. To lose it would be devastating for this nation and as much as he wanted to order his men out, it wouldn't be the right thing. Besides, most likely, the agents would refuse to go anyway. This was what they were trained for, what each and every one of them had sworn to protect.

He knew he wouldn't leave either.

"Good. Send us pictures of the bomb so we can forward it to the other teams. And keep us updated."

Keller confirmed and went off. On the map they had marked where the bomb was found. Tony studied it for a moment before he told the techs to call up the maps of the other targets. Comparing the location of the bomb in relation to the different floor maps he highlighted the most likely places for the other teams to search first and told them to forward it along with the pictures to the other teams.

And because he knew pacing impatiently would not send a good message, he forced himself to sit down in one of the chairs and breathe regularly. There was not much else he could do otherwise, except respond to an update when one came in. At least they were coming aplenty. Sadly not with any breaking news.

He hated every second of it.

Finally, after half an eternity, or at least that was what it seemed like for Tony, Keller radioed in that the bomb squad had been able to disarm the bomb and secure the biological agent. He shot to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. "Great work, Keller. Have the explosive experts wire us the disabling process. Then proceed with securing and processing the scene. If there is one clue, no matter how tiny it is, as to who placed the bomb, I want it bagged and tagged and transferred to our lab."

"PFPA won't be happy about that," Keller replied dryly.

Tony looked briefly at Fornell and Kort, who had returned a short time ago, reporting that no one would be getting to Crest, not even Crest himself. Tony hadn't asked for further details. The less he knew the better. He trusted that the CIA knew where the limit was, especially with a cooperating informant. For now. Judging from the hard, calculating looks of the seasoned agents, PFPA wouldn't be the only Agency fighting for this particular bone. And truth be told, as great as Abby was, she couldn't do this alone. "Tell them that it's only in order to collect and process all evidence in one place. As soon as we've processed it, they along with the other sister agencies are free to join the examination of the evidence. In fact, I propose they name one of their own forensic analysts to join our team here. If they still give you a hard time about this, refer them to me." Keller confirmed and ended the transmission. Tony looked at his fellow agency representatives. "Same goes for you. This is too much for one agency to process and we need to look at all evidence collected from the five scenes as one. The different eyes could even prove helpful. But our Ms Sciuto will have the lead," he added, his tone making sure they knew that this was not negotiable. Otherwise one very angry pigtailed forensic analyst was going to kill him and his body would disappear for all eternity. As it was, Abby was probably already going to kill him for siccing a whole bunch of other lab rats on her.

Not that he couldn't understand the feeling. But if he had to play nice with the other alphabet soup agencies, then so would the rest of his team.

He turned back to the big screen and told the techs to get him the other team leaders on the line. "The Pentagon is secure," he told them straight away, knowing that this excellent news would give the other teams hope and a much needed confidence boost. So far, Balance had always been a step ahead of them. "The disabling process has been sent to you, see to it that your bomb squads get it. What is your status? Team N?"

"Building and surrounding blocks evacuated and closed off. We just located the bomb. Bomb squad is starting to disable it now," McGee answered, his voice strainingly calm, which told Tony that his friend was feeling quite the opposite. Oh well, it was his first mission as team leader, a little nervousness was pretty much a given in that case.

"Good. But be careful, I wouldn't be surprised if they used different bombs just for this case," he warned, hoping he was wrong, but not at all sure about it. Balance had shown how deviously and ruthlessly they could operate and besides, they had more than enough people to have more than one bomb expert. Also given the different and mostly wide apart location of the targets, it was likely that they may have followed a main construction plan but built in different traps. "Team C?"

"We arrived on scene half an hour ago. The evacuation is still underway, but we should have the zone cleared within the next thirty minutes. Search teams are looking for the bombs as we speak," Ziva reported neutrally, telling him that she was in full ninja mission mode. Good. That's what he needed from her right now. "We will keep you updated."

She didn't even wait for his confirmation. It was so like Ziva, he had a smile tugging at his lips as he called for Team L. Agent Callen responded shortly that they too were still in search of the bombs, the evacuation however was completed. Agent Lara Pierce from Team H reported the same thing. So far so good.

Resignedly, he sat back down, knowing that once again, the only thing he could do was wait and be ready.

* * *

><p>Tim's hands wouldn't stop glistening with sweat, no matter how many times he swiped them on his pants. Probie Four seemed to have been sitting in front of the bomb for an eternity now, trying to disable it. The front was off, but as it turned out, Tony's gut had been right. The bomb was different than the one they found in the Pentagon so all bets were off.<p>

At least the building was clear. Only his team and the response team from New York were still in the danger zone. Which was bad enough. If something happened ...

Well, it would not matter much, at least he'd be dead along with his team and wouldn't have to live with the guilt. Was that why Gibbs and Tony always refused to leave when they had the chance to get out, even if it was to go get help or force the rest of them to leave them behind?

"For the last time: you need to leave. This is my city, my call."

Still not able to look away from his probie, Tim sighed. "And as I told you already: this is a joint operation, led by NCIS Director DiNozzo. He sent me here to find and disable the bomb and secure the scene and that's what I'm going to do. I respect that you're the chief and this is your city. We can't save it from yet another disastrous terror attack without your help. And I promise, you will get all the credit for it. But for now _I_'m the one in charge and I will _not _get out and wait behind the lines for either my people coming out alive or going up in flames. If you want to go, that's fine. We do need someone who overviews the securing of the scene outside."

"Careful, boy. You seem to forget who you're talking with. I was keeping this city safe long before you even were a beep on the radar. And you do not get to come here, push me aside and tell me how to do my job," the chief raged, red-faced.

"That's not my intention in any way whatsoever, Sir," Tim answered calmly, holding his breath as Probie Four cut another wire. Nothing happened. So far so good. He turned his head to look the chief in the eyes. "I'm just doing my job and I suggest you do yours. Your citizens are scared. I'm sure they'd feel a lot more secure if they could see their chief working at keeping them safe and hearing you reassure them that everything is under control. My place is here - yours is out there, with your citizens."

The chief glared at him. "Your director will hear from me," he promised, shoving him his finger under his nose. But he turned on his heels and finally left them alone. Tim watched him go with a grin. "You do that," he muttered, proud to have successfully dealt with him. Gibbs would be proud of him and so would Tony. And if the chief was indeed calling Tony to complain about him, he'd be in for a surprise.

He chuckled, imagining just how expertly Tony would deal with the indignant man. The chief wouldn't know what hit him. Beside him, Probie One raised an eyebrow. Quickly, he stifled the chuckle. "Do we have the security footage?"

"Yes, all packed up and ready to go," she answered, glancing to her teammate and the bomb.

He nodded. There really wasn't anything more to do, not until the bomb was disabled. "Good. Take P ... Agent Phelps and bring the footage back to the plane. We have to get it back to Abby as soon as possible. Send Phelps with it. Then come back. We should have this under control by then and there'll be a lot to bag and tag."

Probie One frowned slightly, but nodded and left. Behind her, Probie Two waited for instructions as he watched Probie Four work, not showing any nervousness at all. Tim wasn't sure if that was bravery or stupidity. And once again he was struck by the difference between this former cop and Tony. By now, Tony would have interviewed every single one from the manager down to the janitor and still not be tired of de-stressing them all with movie references corresponding to the present situation. Diffusing the tension. But this guy? "Have you talked to the manager?"

"Yes, he has no idea when or by whom this bomb was placed," the probie answered.

"Anyone else got an idea?" Tim wanted to know, trying not to sound too impatient.

"No."

Tim waited to see if the ex-cop would elaborate on that a bit. He did not. Okay. "And you talked to?"

"The head of security and the guards. No one coming in today stood out or wasn't on the list."

Of course they wouldn't. They had moles in the White House. Having an inside guy here at the stadium was a picnic compared with that. Shaking his head, he suppressed a snarky comment. "Take the list and run a background check on all of the names. Also, I want background checks done on all the employees or anyone else who had access." It would get him out of the danger zone - and out of his sight. He couldn't help himself, he didn't like this man. He didn't seem to be a particularly good agent. Either way, he was glad that after this mission, he hopefully wouldn't have to work with this guy ever again.

The probie frowned. "That's a lot of people."

"So I suggest you start with it," Tim told him dryly, with a warning in his voice that would do Gibbs' silent threats justice.

The ex-cop finally got it too and left with a shrug and a very quiet mutter. Finally.

"Cheery guy, huh?"

He looked back to Probie Four. The retired marine was still concentrated on his work, but there was a lifted corner to his mouth. He smiled. "Yeah. How's it going?"

"Almost done. You still got time to get out."

"Nah. Running never was my strong suit," Tim answered lightly, actually coming closer to have a better view.

Probie Four briefly looked up at him, then shrugged, going back to cutting another wire. "I hear your boss is a marine. He taught you good."

The words made Tim's chest swell with pride. Yeah, Gibbs had taught him good. And so had Tony. He squatted down beside his agent. "We're going out together," he confirmed. "Question is, how?

"Well," the widower and father of twins said calmly, cutting another wire. "Looks like we're going out on our own two feet." He stood up and stretched.

Perplexed that it was over so suddenly, Tim looked from the bomb up to his agent. "It's done?"

The marine just smiled.

* * *

><p>In the end, the Chicago bomb was found quickly. It was also attached to the water supply, like in Washington and New York. What was different was that there were two bombs. They found a second attached to the ventilation, so Ziva ordered the local bomb squad to work on the one at the water tanks while she took the second one.<p>

"Evacuation is complete and we finished the search. There are no other bombs."

She nodded absently, frowning at the mass of wire in front of her. "Good. Secure the camera footage, then get out of here too."

York frowned. "And you?"

"I will follow soon. Go now," she ordered, not bothering to look up. She had seen similar bombs, had disabled them even, the problem was that the wiring was always the tricky part. She had to cut the right ones in the right order or she would trigger it. It took her a while to notice that her temporary SFA was still lurking behind her. She looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "You are waiting for something?"

York sighed and made a face. "Yeah. You."

She frowned. "I do not need your help. You can go."

He snorted. "Nothing new there, Agent David. Look, Tony would kill me anyway if he learned that I left you behind to die alone. So I figure I'd rather die here with you, if I have to die anyway."

She shook her head. "We are not going to die. You, because you will leave now and make sure that this scene is secure until I am done here, and me because I am perfectly able to defuse this bomb. But your staying here is still too great a risk and unnecessary as well. So go now, that is an order."

York watched her for a moment, before shaking his head. "With all due respect, _Ma'am_, I refuse. Neither you or I may like it, but for the moment, I am your second, which makes me your partner which in turn means I'm staying and not going anywhere unless it's with you."

"That does not make any sense," she told him, not seeing why he had to be so stubborn all of a sudden. He was being almost as infuriating as Tony often was. Maybe to be so annoying wasn't Tony's personality after all but came with the job?

Either York could read her thoughts or he had similar thoughts of his own, because he sighed exasperated. "Tony must have the patience of a saint if you always are as clueless and stubborn as this," he muttered, before he came a bit closer to squat down beside her and look her in the eyes, very seriously. "Think. How many times did Agent Gibbs order you to leave or do something else to keep you out of harm's way while he was determined to stay in the danger zone? And how many of those times did Tony actually follow that order, directly or indirectly?"

She actually did think back, trying to remember similar situations. Most prominently, there was the case with Gibbs' daughter's best friend. Then there had been that bomb. The hostage case in a way. The mess with the Reynosa cartel. And others. She nodded. "Not very often."

He grinned. "With Agent Gibbs? I bet. Tony's one busy SFA for sure." He grew serious again. "We do the paperwork, school the probies, keep our junior agents safe and if necessary, we step in to take the lead. But our most difficult and important job is to have our leader's back. Whether they want it or not. Right now, you and me are partners and the core team. And as your partner, I will _not_ leave you behind but I'll stay at your side until it's over. Or, if I see you can't disable this bomb but still have a chance to save yourself, I will drag you away for your own good, even if I have to club you in order to do that. Because no matter how much I like you or how well you know me, for the time being, I am your SFA and that is my job and duty. Are we clear?"

Ziva looked down, his words ringing in her ears - and her heart. With shame she recognized that if she were in Mark York's place, if Tony had made him team leader and her his SFA, she would have just left and followed her orders, not even thinking about any of what York had just explained her about his duties. Maybe, that was one of the reasons why Tony had made her team leader because he had known she was well able to be in charge - but not so good at being a senior field agent. It would be like him, to think ahead like this while at the same time ensuring that she had someone good at her back who watched her six, no matter what.

And she thought she knew all about Tony there was to know. Even after all the times he had already surprised her over the years.

Meeting her SFA's eyes again, she slowly nodded. "I think I understand. Thank you. Nevertheless, I strongly suggest you run if I order it. I promise, I will be right behind you."

"It's a deal," York agreed with a smile but there was also a warning in his eyes that she'd better be.

This man was not going to leave without her. Very well. In that case she just would have to make sure that they both could leave. With even a stronger determination, she turned her attention back to the bomb.

* * *

><p>So far, it looked as if they had been just quick enough. The Chicago team had just radioed in that they had finally managed to disable the two bombs. DiNutso had been obviously relieved, but was far from relaxed. That Fornell could understand. But the young man also seemed on edge, more than he should be. Which in turn made him nervous. The boy had a gut that was almost as good as his boss'.<p>

"What is it?" he asked quietly, as soon as DiNutso ended the video transmission with David. Kort must have heard him too though as he joined their little group as well.

DiNutso looked at him, then back to the big video screen. He shrugged. "I dunno. It's too easy."

"_Easy_?" Fornell repeated, incredulous. Coordinating five major operations in five different cities all over America, disabling bombs and stopping a massive act of bioterrorism was anything else but too easy in his book.

"Please," Kort snorted as well. "You just want an out in case something goes wrong. But you won't get it. You wanted the lead. Something goes wrong, you take the responsibility now and don't get to excuse yourself that we didn't listen to your gut."

DiNutso didn't have to answer as in that moment, phones started ringing and at the same time, Ms Sciuto stormed in, repeating his name endlessly, each time with increasing urgency. With a telling look towards Fornell, DiNutso stepped forward, holding up both hands in a calming gesture. "Breathe Abby. I'll be with you in a minute, unless it's life-threatening?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. He nodded and stepped towards the big screen, signaling to the agents at the controls to put the calls there. The screen split in two, showing LA and Hawaii. Agent Pierce from Pearl Harbor spoke first, Commander McGarrett, coordinating HPD, beside her. Shots could be heard in the background and they looked both very tense. "We've got trouble. Balance sent a strike team to protect the bomb. We're under fire. So far we can hold our position, but there've been casualties already."

DiNozzo looked back at Fornell. "We got anyone in Hawaii who we can send in to help?"

Fornell shook his head, so did Kort. All personnel they had were already in place or at least should be. Clenching his jaw, Tony turned back to the screen. "Copy that, H. Do what you can, I'll see if I can get you some reinforcement." He looked at the operator. "Get me SecDef, ASAP," he bellowed. SecDef appeared on a corner of the screen within thirty seconds, not looking too happy about the urgent call. Well, too bad. DiNozzo plunged right ahead. "Pearl Harbor is under fire. We've got casualties. There's a Seal team on base and the Ronald Reagan's docked in. Request to send the forces in to help our guys."

SecDef didn't think twice about it and nodded. "I'll send them in immediately. Keep me posted."

Nodding, DiNozzo switched back to Agent Pierce and Commander McGarrett, telling them to expect help any second now. After they acknowledged him, obviously relieved, Kort shook his head. "Even if SecDef's orders already reached them, it will take some time to assemble the teams and send them in. It's unlikely they'll make it in time."

DiNutso smiled ferally. "Commander McGarrett is a reservist Seal. He already put his old buddies on alert. And I spoke with the Captain of the Reagan as soon as we learned that Hawaii's a target. He knows me from my time as Agent Afloat on his ship and promised to help. As soon as the official orders form SecDef come through the proper channel, he'll give the go and they jump into the action."

That rendered Kort speechless, which made Fornell smile, despite the tense situation. He had no idea when DiNozzo had had the time to prepare all this, but it didn't surprise him much. The ex-Cop knew how to make buddies he could ask for a favor or who owned him something, always a very useful thing and one of the reasons why he had offered the young detective a job right after their first meeting, despite their mutual initial dislike. That and his knack for multitasking. It was undeniable that in the same amount of time, DiNutso managed to do twice as much as most agents he knew.

Meanwhile, the man in question had turned back to the screen to talk now with LA. Fornell's smile dropped instantly as he listened to an ashen faced Agent Callen. "We located two bombs. One we could disable but the second was triggered by remote. Half of the Kodak theatre is gone, along with the LAPD bomb squad and two FBI agents. The scene was contaminated. They think it's confined to the bomb site but further tests must be conducted before we can confirm that. To be safe we've expanded the evacuation zone with a mile. Our Agents Deeks and Blye were exposed. They are being treated as we speak."

There was a heavy silence in MTAC before DiNozzo nodded slowly. "Keep us updated. And please send us the names of the fallen so we can contact their families. What about Balance? Could you follow the signal? Did they show up at the scene?"

"Not that we noticed and we're still analyzing our data. As soon as we have a lead, we're ready to strike," Callen said darkly.

The transmission ended and DiNozzo turned around, met Fornell's eyes. "I'm sorry about your agents," he said quietly.

Fornell just nodded. It was always hard to lose agents, even if you didn't know them personally. He could see the same sorrow he felt mirrored in the expressive green eyes he was looking into. As this time it was him who sent those men in to die, it probably weighed even harder on DiNozzo than him. It wasn't his fault and DiNozzo was long enough in law enforcement that he knew it himself. And with time, he would remember that and it would ease his mind. Still, Fornell knew from experience that a crash was going to come, and he hoped sincerely that by then Gibbs would be well enough again to catch the boy. Otherwise he'd have to step in and apart from the fact that he wasn't sure DiNozzo would listen to him, it would seriously disturb their snarky work relationship.

Not to mention that Gibbs was going to skin him if he failed the boy.

"Tony, Tony, Tony!"

In a flash, DiNozzo had his features schooled into an easy-going, if maybe a bit stressed expression as he turned to face Ms Sciuto. No hint of his sorrow remained. It wasn't the first time Fornell had watched it happen over the past couple of days, but it still was just creepy how that man could control what he let others, even his best friends, see and what not. "Abby, can't it wait? You see we're a bit busy here."

"I know, but trust me, you need to know this." Not giving her friend any time to answer, she plunged right into it, leaving all of them staring at her in surprise. "I think I know where they're keeping Vance and the rest of the directors."

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: First of all, sorry it took so long! Life was a bit hectic in the last couple months, plus NaNo and the holidays … Yeah well. Here at last the new chapter and boy, I hope you liked it. It was far from easy to write and I hope it's not totally off the book or unrealistic. If it is – well, sorry. I do try my best to keep it more or less accurate but I'm far from an expert in anything and the internet can only help so much. Obviously, we have tiny crossovers with NCIS LA and Hawaii Five-O as I borrowed some characters from the show (which, btw I don't own either). I hesitated to do so, but with LA and Hawaii involved, anything else just wouldn't have felt right, especially after NCIS LA and Hawaii Five-O already did shoot a double episode together. While I do actually love and watch Five-O faithfully, I only watch LA sporadically but I do hope I stayed true to them all anyway. Anything left? Nope, I think I'm good. Next chapter hopefully sooner than this one, but as mentioned before, these are some of the last chapters and they are always tough for me to write and wrap up everything. But I am working on it and with all the fabulous encouragement you send my way (thanks so much for that!) I'm sure it's only a matter of a couple of weeks, more or less. <em>


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tony held his breath and looked back. He still couldn't believe that his only back-up was Trent Kort of all people. He held up his hand and started to count down by bending down one finger after the other.

Five.

After Abby's stunning revelation, he'd had her explain her theory. It was a solid one. She had managed to follow the truck the van with the captured men had driven into until she had lost them on the outskirts of the city, going in direction of the Hamptons. But going through the data on the secured notebooks she found the mention of a HQ and plans of a complex underground that also held something that looked like cells. Finally, checking Attorney General Bishop's bank accounts she found a large sum spent on redecorating his holiday home in the Hamptons two years ago.

Four.

He agreed that it was most likely that they kept their hostages there. At least it was worth checking it out. And considering Bishop's arrest and the foiled attacks, time was becoming of the essence. They still didn't know exactly why Balance had kidnapped their directors instead of just killing them, but he figured, with the changed situation it was better not to lose any more time than they already had, not if they wanted to get them back alive. But with all his teams already out in the field, there was no one left to do it. No one but him. As he had turned to leave, Fornell had stepped right into his path. "What d'you think you're doing, DiNutso?"

"My job," Tony had told him quietly, trying to sidestep him.

"Your job," the older agent had emphasized, "is to stay here and coordinate this operation, _Director_."

It was true. But more importantly, Tony was a field agent, one of the only ones left in headquarters. Fornell was the one who should have led this operation in the first place. With all the experience he had as a FBI agent and leading major operations he had been the only logic choice. Maybe, under his lead, they wouldn't have lost Agents Matthews and Perth. Or those men in LA. There was nothing left to do for Tony in MTAC but wait and gather all reports to forward them to the White House. Anyone could do that. But not anyone could lead a rescue mission.

However, _he_ could. He would and hey, him being director, there was no one who could stop him from doing just that.

Three.

Besides, as director it was his job to give out the tasks to his personnel that matched their best abilities. So he ordered Fornell to take his place in MTAC and coordinate what was left to wrap up while he went to try to save their directors. The sooner Vance and Jarvis were back in the picture, the sooner this farce was over and he could go back to his real job: lead the MCRT until Gibbs was back on his feet, then be Gibbs' trustworthy sidekick again.

Two.

But Fornell had refused to let him take the chopper that would fly them out to the Hamptons alone. Insisted that someone had to go with him. That was when Kort had volunteered and really, other than not trusting Kort even an iota, Tony had no arguments left to refuse it. So here they were, at the gates of Bishop's compound, him leading, Kort at his back and a squad of the local police reinforcing them.

It was a joke and way off being enough, but it was the best they had been able to come up with at such short notice.

One.

Letting go of his held breath, Tony gave the go.

* * *

><p>Abby was way too nervous to sit still, but at the same time too anxious to pace, because that would mean she'd have to tear her eyes away from the live feed to the Hamptons she had hacked into and that was unacceptable. Maybe it was ridiculous, after all, it wasn't as if she could do anything to help Tony but somehow she felt that if she just watched over him, even if it was only over a video feed, he would be at least a little bit safer.<p>

It was horrible that he was out there, all alone, with only Kort at his back! Kort! He was going straight into the lion's den for heaven's sake. He needed some real back-up, someone who gave a damn about him, cared for him, knew Tony and his tendency to think too much about the safety of pretty much everyone and too little about his own. He needed Gibbs to have his six out there. Or at least Timmy or Ziva. They knew how to properly watch his back and make sure he was coming home whole.

But of course neither of them was available. Which was why Abby was freaking out; it was just too much. First Gibbs got shot and ended up confined to a hospital bed, then Vance and Jarvis got kidnapped, Tim and Ziva left to go disable bombs and now - now she thought her people were more or less safe and she could breathe again... and then Tony up and left to go storm the compound of the enemy, practically alone!

Worst of all, it was her fault. If she hadn't taken so long to figure out where the directors most likely were, maybe Tony could have sent a proper team out, under the lead of someone else. Or if she had taken just a bit longer, at least until Keller was back with his team, or even better, maybe McGee or Ziva. But no, she had to have the worst timing ever, having to tell him just after he had heard about more agents lost. Dammit! She should have known that his guilt over them would drive him to do something stupid like this!

Wasn't she his best friend? Didn't she know him longer and better than anyone but Gibbs? Why had she been so stupid as to not think about his annoying habit of feeling guilty about things that weren't his fault at all? She should have known he'd go himself instead of letting someone else handle this.

Should have known he'd rather go sacrifice himself than send one more man or woman on a possible suicide mission.

Her eyes welled up and she angrily swiped the tears away, needing to focus on the screen.

The satellite feeds showed at least a dozen dots that were patrolling the compound. And that was just above ground! They had no idea what awaited them below ground. At least they had the plans now, so Tony didn't have to go in all blind and knew where he had to go. But that didn't help them much if a battalion awaited them underground.

Her phone rang and for a moment she contemplated just letting it ring, not willing to give up her vigil. Then she thought that maybe it was Tony, needing some last intel from her. She'd never crossed over to her station as fast as this time. "Tony?"

"No," McGee's voice floated out of the speaker phone. "One of my probies is on her way to you with all the video footage we could collect. Actually, she should be there soon. Thought I'd give you a head's up. Tony wants them analyzed as soon as possible. Wait, why would you think it's Tony calling you?" He asked, suddenly sounding very suspicious.

She looked back to the satellite feed. The blue dots were just crossing the frontiers of the compound, meeting the first red dots. She nagged at her lip and wrung her hands. God, she hated this!

"Abby? What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Gibbs is in the hospital, you and Ziva are out facing bombs and the plague and Tony ..." She stopped herself, jabbing at her desk board to give her a new, closer angle. "Yeah, McGee, I'd say there's a lot wrong."

"I know," McGee sighed. "Look, Gibbs is going to be alright. My team disabled the bomb and the vessels containing the bacteria are secured. From what I heard, Ziva's team was as successful. Everything's looking up."

"LA wasn't so lucky. Dieks and Blye were exposed to the Y. Pestis. And Pearl Harbor is under fire," she muttered, unhappily.

She didn't know the LA agents very well, but Eric mentioned them so often when they chatted, she felt as if she knew them a lot better. To think that they perhaps had to go through the same thing Tony went through, then maybe die ... A major shudder went through her entire body and she felt her throat closing off. Again.

"My God. I didn't hear that. Is there anything we can do to help?" McGee asked, shocked.

He probably knew as well as she did that there was little or nothing they could do and felt as helpless over it as she. It consoled her somewhat. It was the hardest thing in her job: to have to stay back in the lab, forced to be scared for her people out there fighting the bad guys day in day out, seldom able to help them. Sure, she tried to give them as much information as possible, so they knew what they were up against, did everything she could to give them the clue they needed and of course helped them wherever she could. She knew it was important work, knew that all her babies under her direction actually did make a big difference, helped find murderers in half the time.

But the end fact was, she stayed safely in her lab while her friends went out there and faced down those murderers. Were the ones who had to go out into the field and collect the evidence for her to examine. Or conducted interview after interview with witnesses and suspects, never knowing if they were maybe talking to the person they were looking for. Always having to be on alert because as yesterday's events had shown, it all could change in the blink of a moment. And in that moment it didn't matter how fast or easily she had found the dooming evidence or how hard she worked to help them.

Oh yeah, she understood the concept of helplessness all too well, had long ago accepted it to be a given in her line of work. Didn't mean she didn't hate it all over again, each damn time she was forced to sit on the sidelines, not able to help.

If it was so hard for her, who was used to it - how hard had it to be for field agents like Tony and McGee?

She looked back to the feed. The first blue dots were now reaching the building where they could access the underground compound. The leading blue dot wavered, then vanished.

Her heart constricted painfully. Logic told her Tony must have entered the elevator to ride down, leaving the range of the satellite. Still it felt as if the lifeline had just been cut.

No, field agents didn't do helplessness well. It made them do stupid things. Like rush off to go save the world, not even thinking about the danger they were heading into.

A second, third and fourth blue dot vanished. Which was a good sign, it meant they followed Tony down into the underground complex. But there was still that tiny doubt that maybe something happened to him. The uncertainty just about killed her.

"Oh Timmy!" It broke out of her and this time she couldn't stop the tears leaking out of her eyes. "I located Vance and the rest of them and now Tony is walking right into a trap, I just know it! I can't lose him, Timmy! He _knows_ that! And yet he just up and left! I'll never forgive him if he gets killed!"

"Whoa, what!?" McGee interrupted her tirade. "Tony left for a mission? When?"

Abby sniffled and wiped her tears away. "About an hour ago. Took a chopper out to the Hamptons where we think Bishop kept the directors in a hidden underground compound. I found the plans for it but McGee, we don't know squat about how many men are securing it, what security systems are in place or if they really are even still alive, if Vance and the others really are being kept there. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Tony went alone?" McGee asked and there was both anger and fear in his voice.

"Kort went with him and they met with the local PD."

For a moment it was silent before one quiet but heartfelt curse floated through. Despite everything, she smiled but held her tongue. "You said the Hamptons? Send me the exact location."

Her smile deepened before it vanished. "Even if you go now, which you shouldn't, I'm sure you'd be too late anyway. The rescue mission is undergoing as we speak."

Another heartfelt curse that would have made Gibbs and Tony proud. "Keep me updated?"

She nodded, even if he couldn't see her. "Sure." As bad as being helpless was being in the dark. Now that McGee was probably as worried as her, it was the least she could do. And she had a feeling, once Tony was back, he'd be in for quite an earful from McGee. Good. Maybe she should call Ziva too, give her a heads up. Sometimes, Tony needed to be reminded that there were people dependent on him and who cared enough to give a damn. That it wasn't right to take such foolish risks if he didn't absolutely have to. Of course Gibbs was the best of them all to get that particular message across and depending on his state of recovery, she was determined to let the boss in as well.

By now, most of the blue dots had vanished, only half remaining visible, securing the compound. The others remained stubbornly hidden. Jiggling nervously on her feet, she went back to nagging at her lip, resigned to waiting some more.

At least now she wasn't alone in doing that and even with the distance between them, it made her feel a bit better.

* * *

><p>After endless hours of sitting in the dark, pain mercilessly throbbing through his tortured body, he felt the agony slowly starting to fade away. Which Leon knew wasn't really a good sign. Nonetheless he was glad for the relief, however short it was likely to be.<p>

The floor beneath him was cold. That too wasn't a good sign, that he welcomed the core deep coldness the raw cement provided. But he couldn't help himself. His body burned.

"How you doing, Leon?"

The voice floated through the dark. He couldn't see its owner, once a friend, now his boss. The room they had been thrown into God knew when was pitch dark, not giving them even the faintest of light their eyes could get adjusted to in order to see at least dimly. This complete darkness was the worst of everything, at least for Leon. He never had cared for the dark much and being held in this hellhole, already having had to listen to one man dying in here, and himself gradually bleeding to death from the slug he had taken in the leg slowly but surely carried him towards developing a major phobia. His head was too fuzzy to remember which one.

"Leon?" Jarvis called his name again, with more urgency and he felt a hand searching for his wrist.

He sighed and gathered enough strength to mutter something reassuringly. They hadn't been given water or food yet so coupled with the fever he was running, he didn't manage more than a few dry grunts. Hardly reassuring. But the hand patted him anyway before falling away again.

"Where the fuck are the rescue teams?" Roland exploded.

It wasn't the first burst of anger, fueled by growing fear, that had occurred. The FBI director so far had been one of the voices of reason, but it seemed he too was starting to lose his composure.

"I don't know, but I swear, once we get out of here, heads are going to roll," Kingston hissed and the sound of a fist hitting the floor hard followed closely, accompanied by a rain of curses.

"Gentlemen, please, let's try to not give them the satisfaction of achieving their goal, shall we?" That was Morrow, speaking in his usual calm voice, though there too Vance could hear a note of irritation.

It scared him more than the tirades of his colleagues from the FBI and CIA. So far, of all of them, Morrow had been their steady rock. He had been calm through everything. The first blinding attack, the violent transport to wherever they were, the endless time spent here in the dark, he had all taken it in a stride and always managed to convince his colleagues to calm down and not panic too much. Even as Wayne died, he had been the one to sit beside him and hold his hand as the blood slowly filled his lungs and he died in a horrible gurgle that was sure to haunt Leon for the rest of his life.

"Oh, shut up, Tom. For hours now, if not days, you've been telling us to just wait and let our people find us but in case you haven't noticed, _there is no one coming!_" Kingston again. Leon had never liked his colleague from the CIA much, long before they were thrown together into the same room. It was safe to say that if they ever left this hellhole, they'd find their mutual dislike had evolved into actual hate. The man had suggested killing Wayne, Leon and Clark in order to save air for the rest of them, seeing as they were going to bleed to death sooner or later anyway. And when Wayne had struggled for his last breaths, as horrible as it had been, Morrow and Jarvis had had to stop him from 'doing the guy a favor'. "We're on our own and hey, I know you're close to death as it is, but some of us have still things to live for. A family, a career. Sitting around and doing nothing will not stop us from dying like flies here!"

"Enough now!" Jarvis bellowed. "Kingston, you may not be wrong, but you yourself checked this cell for any means of escape and there was nothing. No one came in either, so overwhelming our kidnappers in order to get free is out of the question as well. As long as you don't have a useful suggestion I strongly advise you shut up. How is Clark doing, Roland?" he addressed the FBI director, his voice immediately losing its sharpness.

They all knew Roland's outburst was fueled by his worry about his AD and friend. Clark had taken one to the abdomen and with all the time that had passed since then, it was unlikely he'd survive even if they were rescued withing the next couple of hours. Roland's silence was further testimony to how bad Clark must be doing.

Gritting his teeth, Leon stared into the darkness. Clark was a friend. Their wives were friends, their children went to the same school. They may have known the risk, but in truth none of their families were ever prepared for something like this. Jackie and his kids weren't either. They'd be cared for, that he had made sure of a long time ago, and Jackie was stronger than Marie but still - this would destroy them.

Which was why he couldn't give up now. He fisted his hands. He was going to fight until the last breath was ripped away from his dying body and even then, if he found a way, he'd fight again. This was not going to be the end of him!

"We didn't tell anyone about our secret meeting, we went to great lengths to see that it remained on a need to know basis. It's going to take our people a while to catch up with what's going on, unless there had been a ransom demand, which I don't believe anymore," Morrow reasoned, his usual calm self again. "And, with all of us gone, it's going to take our agents a while to see the connection and organize themselves. Not to mention the turf war that's going to break out if they decide to form a joint operation. We have no idea who took us either so it won't be easy for them to track us down."

"Great, Tom, what are you trying to achieve here? That we lose all the little hope we have left?" Galen asked bitterly. The NSA AD had not taken the death of his director well, barely speaking since Wayne had died.

"No, Galen. Quite the opposite. I'm merely saying that it can't be easy for our people to locate us and that's why we need to give them some time to find us. I know it feels like an eternity since we've been captured but in reality, it can't be much more than a day or two. But we work with the best of the best," he continued quickly and the pride in Morrow's voice was unmistakable. "They _will _find us and bring us home. Until then, it's our job to stay calm and help each other, not tear into each other!"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll find us eventually, the question is if they find us in time, before we all end up like Wayne," Roland countered quietly.

"Have faith, old friend. Knowing our people, it won't be long anymore, especially if some of their guts are working right," Morrow answered confidently.

Leon found himself snorting. "Amen. I bet Gibbs is driving everyone crazy already, not listening to any orders he doesn't think fit."

Morrow chuckled. "He is indeed one of the agents I'm counting on. Even more, I count on his, let's call it, free and strong will."

The smile in the man's voice was unmistakable, reminding Leon that Morrow had once been Gibbs' boss. Wasn't he even the director who hired him in the first place?

"That's one way to call it. I must say, I still can't decide if I'm grateful for you making Gibbs team leader or should wish you to hell for it," Jarvis muttered.

Whatever response Morrow had was forgotten as another voice popped up. "Shhh! Did you hear that?" It was Walt, Morrow's second in command. Not a man of many words. And not the only similarity to Gibbs, as Leon realized suddenly. It had been thanks to Walt that Morrow hadn't been killed when the masked men had stormed the mansion. It was also him who had quickly but efficiently done what could be done for the wounded before he went on to look for a way out. This was the first time he'd spoken since reporting that there simply was no means to escape unless their enemies came into the cell. Probably mentally preparing himself for just such a scenario.

Everyone felt silent and strained to hear what had made Walt break his silence. The walls were most likely sound proofed, as so far they had heard almost nothing from outside but very faintly, there was indeed a sound coming in.

Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop.

"Is that gunfire?" Kingston asked, disbelieving but hopeful.

"The cavalry's here," Morrow confirmed contentedly and there was a rustling of clothes as he got up. The 'told you so' was clear there without it being said out loud.

"Prepare yourselves," Walt instructed them softly and Leon had no doubt the former special forces soldier had dropped into a fighting position, ready to strike whoever came through the door.

His musing was rudely interrupted as Jarvis grabbed him under his armpits and hauled him up, causing fiery arrows of pain to shoot up from his leg, doing their best to make him black out. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth together hard to prevent him from letting out the screams he felt overwhelming him. His world was reduced to his pain and his fight to stay conscious, although in the end, it didn't make much of a difference. He'd been so focused on the pain he missed what was happening around him until suddenly, a very familiar voice penetrated the haze.

"No, Sir, it's DiNozzo. Good to see you alive."

Disbelieving, he opened his eyes and squinted against the sudden onslaught of light that seemed to burn his irises. "DiNozzo?" He had to admit, he was surprised. Despite the earlier joking about Gibbs and where Gibbs was, DiNozzo never was far behind, he hadn't expected to indeed be rescued by his agents. DiNozzo's amused response got rid of any remaining doubts though.

"In the flesh, Leon. Sorry to disappoint."

Only DiNozzo. Thankfully, Jarvis jumped in at that moment, sparing him the need to grind out a response. "Quit the antics and get us out of here, DiNozzo!"

"With pleasure, Sir," DiNozzo replied patiently, and called over his shoulder for some help. By now the blinding light had dimmed down enough for Leon to be able to see some shadows coming into the cell to help and before he knew it, a shoulder slid under his other arm, helping Jarvis to keep him upright. Blinking, the shadows materialised more and more until they became real persons and two blinks later, he could make out DiNozzo standing guard by the door, his gaze along with the automatic weapon in his hands trained on whatever awaited them beyond their cell door.

"What about the body?" some stranger asked from behind, undoubtedly standing beside Wayne. He didn't look back. Having had to listen to his death and smell the decomposing body rotting beside them had been bad enough; he didn't need to see him too; so he saw the frown as DiNozzo's head whipped around, but much more than that he saw the guilt and remorse flashing over his face, if only for a second, standing out starkly before DiNozzo's mask was back in place although replaced by a grim and serious one Leon seldom had witnessed. Strange.

"Take him. No one gets left behind," he ordered and with a jolt Leon realized that DiNozzo was in charge here.

What the hell? "Where's Gibbs?" he demanded to know.

Ignoring him, DiNozzo brought the weapon up and stepped out into the hallway, turning left and right. "Clear. Hurry."

Jarvis and the man on his left started moving forward and Leon forgot all about not getting an answer, stifling another scream.

"We're coming out now," DiNozzo spoke into his radio as they all moved past him, following the two officers clearing the way for them while DiNozzo stood facing the other direction, apparently covering their escape.

"All clear," was confirmed back by a voice that let Leon forget his pain momentarily. Was that ...

"Is that Kort?" Kingston voiced his incredulous thought, sounding as surprised as he was. Probably because he knew as well as him that hell had to freeze over first before DiNozzo and Kort would agree to work together and have each other backs - which apparently was exactly what was happening here.

Seriously. What on Earth had happened while they had been sitting in that cell? And where the hell was Gibbs? Because as unlikely as it was for DiNozzo to trust Kort let alone have his back, only over his dead body would the fierce team leader actually let that happen.

Ahead of them, a door was pushed open and for the first time in a long time he smelled fresh air. Oh, he never had smelled anything as beautiful.

"Care to tell us what happened while we've been gone?" Again Morrow seemed to voice his thoughts and despite the pain, Leon turned his head to see and not just hear his agent's answer.

He could have spared himself the effort as DiNozzo was walking backwards, his concentration trained on covering them. "Oh, not much. Environmental terrorists are trying to release the plague on humanity and take over the world."

Leon growled but it was Jarvis who bellowed what was on the tip of his tongue. "DiNozzo! Quit joking around!"

Briefly, DiNozzo looked back at them and instead of the juvenile grin he was expecting, he was met with a grim face and deadly serious eyes. But before he could answer them, a rapid string of shots rang out.

* * *

><p>After years of being a team leader and in charge of many operations, Fornell was used to be the one staying behind, watching everything and coordinating assignments. He knew it was a very important and responsible job and that was why he took it very seriously. Having been on the other end, with some douche bag messing everything up and nearly getting him and his people killed, he indeed knew just how important his role was.<p>

Didn't mean he liked it and today was even worse because first, he wasn't supposed to be the one staying in MTAC giving out orders, second he constantly doubted his decision to let DiNozzo go, with Kort of all people and last but certainly not least, he had made a promise he took very seriously and somehow, while he impatiently watched colorful dots moving over a satellite feed, having lost contact with DiNozzo the moment he had gone below ground, he had a feeling his old friend was going to say he failed.

He didn't have many friends and God knew how it happened that his adversary and first husband of his ex-wife had become the best one he had, one he wanted to keep. Which was out of the question if DiNozzo managed to get himself killed. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope if the boy only got hurt, then again, if it were Emily, he doubted he'd be so forgiving. It didn't matter that DiNozzo was in his forties and a seasoned field agent. Or that with him being in charge, he really didn't have a choice when DiNozzo had ordered him to move out of the way and take over MTAC with unyielding steel in his eyes, proving that he was his own man and what a hell of a man he was. Fact was, DNA be damned and if those stubborn idiots ever acknowledged it or not, DiNozzo was Gibbs' boy, always would be, and where children were involved, logic fled the house.

He had promised to watch over DiNozzo and somehow he doubted Gibbs would see letting him go into the lion's den, along with his most hated enemy and only half the people – untrained – that they'd need at his back as doing a particular good job. And he'd have to agree. Just how he had found himself agreeing to it, he still wasn't sure.

One moment he had moved in front of DiNozzo, demanding just what the hell he thought he was doing, intent on keeping him where he was needed even if he had to chain DiNutso to one of the chairs - the next he was standing aside and letting him go. He shook his head and scowled. Damn stubborn Italian.

But there had been something in his eyes, a need and determination so strong it kind of blew Fornell's mind and had him silently applauding SecDef for apparently recognizing that amazing strength on the spot, over a video feed no less. He had been absolutely right to choose DiNozzo as lead for this and damn, Gibbs was going to be so pissed. No way they were going to let this talent go unused any longer.

Although, SecDef had been anything but pleased to learn that his designated NCIS director and op leader had fled the troops, so to speak. And apparently wasn't picking up his phone. Still, he doubted it would save DiNozzo from having to move up the ladder.

And perhaps that was for the best. Sometimes, the birds had to be pushed out of the nest in order for them to fly.

His phone rang, again. Checking the caller ID, he frowned when he didn't recognize the number. "Fornell."

"What has he gotten himself into now?"

"Gibbs?" The voice on the other end was alarmingly weak, but the frustration and gruffness in it was unmistakable. "I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to use the phone. You didn't get up and sneak off, did you?" Sure, the man just had surgery, he shouldn't be able to sit up, let alone sneak out of his bed - but if anyone could pull it off, it was the stubborn ex-marine.

"No," was the short growl. "DiNozzo. He in trouble?"

Fornell's frown deepened as he looked at the satellite feed. Kort had reported a short time ago that the hostages had been found and were on the way out. It looked as if DiNozzo's little escapade would end up a success. Of course Gibbs hardly knew about said escapade and he doubted it'd be good for his health to learn about it right now. "He's doing alright. Now why don't you ..." He was interrupted when a whirlwind with pigtails burst through the door, nearly running over Farrington in her haste to race down the ramp, coming to a stop in front of Fornell, breathing hard, the whites of her eyes very prominent. She grabbed and shook him. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Is Tony on the line? I need to talk with Tony! Please, you've got to get me through to him! Now!"

"Abby?" Gibbs bellowed into his ear, clearly having heard the nearly hyperventilating Goth; who in turn had no problem in recognizing her favorite team leader's voice either and greedily grabbed the phone. "Gibbs? Oh, it's so good to hear your voice! But the bomb! Please, we need to warn Tony! He's got no idea he's sitting on a bomb big enough to take out the entire compound!"

"Bomb? What bomb?" Fornell asked at the same time as Gibbs.

The big eyes turned to him. "I found receipts for fifty pounds of C4 and plans for a destruction cascade. The whole compound is rigged. And Tony's there, attacking them, not knowing that any moment, they just have to push a button and everything's going to explode around him. Now, will you _finally_ get him on the phone for me?"

Fornell found himself blanching. Damn Gibbs' gut for always being right! "We can't. He's still underground, the same inference that's hindering the satellite feed is also messing up the cell signals." He looked to the tech. "Get me Kort on the line!"

"_Kort_?! What the hell, Tobias?" Even though his phone was still in Ms Sciuto's hands, he had no problem hearing Gibbs. Hell, the entire MTAC had to have heard him yell.

"There was no one else to back Tony up, not after Tony ordered Fornell to stay put and take over coordinating the missions from him," the anxious forensics expert rattled off at a speed it shouldn't be able to speak at. "You should have seen him, Fornell didn't have a chance. I swear, it could have been you giving him that stare, you know which one. Well, of course with Tony it was more of a laser green stare while with you it's more an icy blue stare, but other than that totally the same don't even try to shit with me vibe you give when there's no stopping you and Fornell just stood aside. You'd have enjoyed his dumbfounded expression. Only now he's all alone out there in the Hamptons, with Kort having his back and after nearly letting him be killed by the frog, that thought really doesn't comfort me much. Like not at all! We can't lose him, Gibbs!"

"We won't," Gibbs assured her, then demanded to speak with Fornell again.

"What's taking so long?" Fornell hissed at the techs as they still hadn't managed to reach Kort before he took his phone back. "You've got some explaining to do," Gibbs seethed.

"Want me to explain things now or instead let me warn your agent about the trap he's in?" he snapped back, less angry with his old adversary than at himself for letting the boy go, despite knowing how bad an idea it was.

But he had also understood DiNutso, having been a young, hotshot field agent himself once. He knew how hard it was to stay back and not be able to go out with your agents. It was the hardest thing to learn when you got your first team or moved up the ladder even more, being bound to a desk or leading duty more and more. Of course it was a part of the job you had to accept if you wanted more. But that was just it. DiNutso didn't want more, at least not yet, but here he was, being yanked from being senior field agent to director and responsible for leading a joint op against the biggest terrorist threat they'd ever faced within a day. So yeah, he'd taken pity and let him go, a mistake he already regretted deeply. If something happened to DiNozzo now, or worse, if he didn't come back … He'd lose the only true friend he had as he knew Gibbs would blame him, and frankly, though he'd never admit it out loud, he was pretty sure it would be something he couldn't forgive himself for either.

The com crackled and the first thing they heard were shots. Rapid shots, so a machine gun and from the sound of it, more than one. There was a moment's pause, then Kort spoke. "We're under fire, trying to get the directors to safety. I don't have time to talk."

"We believe the whole compound is rigged to blow up. Warn DiNozzo and then get the hell out of there, ASAP," Fornell ordered urgently.

To their surprise it wasn't Kort who answered but the man in their thoughts himself. "Rigged?"

"You're sitting on fifty pounds of C4, Tony!" Ms Sciuto hastily spoke up. "From the plans I saw, someone in the command centre just has to push a button and the whole thing goes up. You need to leave. Like an hour ago!"

"Son of a bitch!" DiNozzo cursed violently before growing quiet for a long time. Only the sound of more gunfire and orders to fall back being shouted could be heard in the background.

"Tobias, stop him." Having almost forgotten he still had Gibbs on his cell, Fornell nearly jumped at the voice suddenly hissing into his ear. He didn't like the urgency and desperate worry in his friend's voice and wondered what he knew that he didn't. "DiNozzo, you copy that?" DiNozzo didn't answer. Was he perhaps hit? But before he could ask Kort for a sitrep, Gibbs spoke again. "Damn _idiot_. Put me through to him, now!"

Easier said than done. He looked over to the tech guy, raising an eyebrow. Hurriedly, the man turned back to his controls, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Finally, he held up a thumb. "You're on," Fornell told Gibbs, still not having a clue what exactly was going on here.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice bellowed across the MTAC all the way to the Hamptons, causing most of the persons present to jump. Fornell could barely hold himself back.

This time, the reply came instantly. "_Boss_?"

"You get your ass out of there now, you hear me?" Gibbs ordered and listening to the steel in his voice, no one could believe that this was a man supposed to be recovering from major surgery right now.

"Boss, I can't. It's a decoy. They're trying to busy us so we won't secure the command centre and stop them from blowing everything up." DiNozzo panted, as if he was running at the top of his speed. "We'd lose everything. The data, the evidence, anything that could help us to bring Balance down once and for all. I can't let that happen. I won't."

With a rush Fornell realized what Gibbs had known all along and felt himself break out into a panicked sweat. Jesus. DiNozzo was not going to leave, not until he stopped the explosion or died trying.

"It doesn't matter. Go!" Gibbs insisted, harshly.

"No can do. Those are the bastards who shot you, Boss. Threatened Shelley's kids." DiNozzo's voice hardened with each word. "They killed two of my agents, if not more by now. I won't let those assholes get away with this, not if I can stop it."

"Damn it, it's not worth your life, Tony!" Gibbs exploded, clearly losing his patience - and strength.

"Oh yeah? Like Ari?" The sarcasm only visited for a short time; already, DiNozzo's voice was turning serious again. "I'm sorry, Gibbs. Not this time. But just in case, it's been an honor knowing you and even more so being able to work with you for those past twelve years. We're one hell of a team and you made me very proud to be part of something meaningful like that." And then, as if he hadn't just said the big goodbye, his voice switched to command note as he addressed Kort again. "Get the directors to the hospital, some of them need it badly. Then clear the compound - no use in risking more lives than necessary."

Fornell's heart sank while Gibbs called out to his agent, desperate. "No! DiNozzo! Get back. Tony!"

It was to no use. DiNozzo didn't answer and it was Kort who spoke next, after a few moments. "Too late. He's gone."

TBC

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: I know, I know. Not only it took more than a month but after all that, you get another cliffy instead of a wrap up of the action. I honestly tried to do that, I really wanted to only make one chapter but problem is, I was on my thirtiest page or something with no end in sight so I had to cut it in half after all. With cliffy, because seriously, where would be the fun without one? But the good news? Next one is almost done and ready so this time there really is no long wait for the next one. As a thanks for all the many and wonderful reviews you gave me. Loved them! So I hope you like this one and no worries, it's only going to be perhaps a week until the next one comes. Until then!<em>

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	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Alarmed, Ducky watched as the phone fell out of Gibbs' grip, as at the same time, the monitor started to warn about the patient's heart's sudden increased beating. Oh my. He had doubted all along that it was a wise thing to let his patient use the phone but his old friend had gotten so agitated all of a sudden, insisting that something was wrong, that in the end he had capitulated and surrendered his phone. A big mistake, clearly.

"Easy, Jethro. Calm down, will you. Deep breaths, my friend, slowly, in and out," he instructed, keeping a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to lie down, his eyes never leaving the readings of the heart monitor. A nurse appeared, looking questioningly at him. "You wouldn't want to be sedated but if you don't calm down, I will not have a choice but to let them give you a sedative."

Gibbs blinked up at him and the anguish in his eyes nearly broke his heart. "He said his goodbyes, Duck."

Ducky nodded, having heard everything as he had insisted on the speaker being turned on. His heart was heavy with worry for the young lad, but there was nothing he could do to help him other than have faith in his most astounding abilities to beat the odds and exceptional skills as an agent. He could help his friend though, and that was what he would do. "Indeed he did. You know him. He always had a pretty good knack for dramatics. But you also know how well trained he is and so you should, having taught him all you know over the past twelve years. And remember that Anthony's will to live is the strongest I have ever witnessed, having helped him to survive much scarier odds. I have no doubt he'll not break all our hearts by now suddenly succumbing to the situation."

The heart was still beating way too fast, putting a dangerous strain on the muscle weakened by the recent surgery. His grip on Jethro's shoulder tightened. "Now, please, calm down. I'm sure you'll have some things to say to Anthony once he's out of danger and you can't do that while sedated." He left it unsaid that he wouldn't know their young friend's fate either. He didn't need to. Gibbs clenched his jaw, his hands curling to fists - but his heartbeat slowed down. Content, Ducky waved the still hovering nurse away. "That's better."

"I'm going to kill him," Gibbs eventually ground out through gritted teeth.

Ducky patted his shoulder, restraining himself from a comment. Alas, the lad deserved the chewing out his boss was going to give him for scaring them all like that. He just hoped and prayed that he'd been right and Anthony would indeed come back to them alive and sound.

* * *

><p>He knew he was in trouble with the boss, if he should make it out before the whole compound blew up, ripping him to pieces along with it. Gibbs didn't like big, dramatic exits, not to mention that he not only had hung up on him but was also disobeying his very crisp and clear orders. It didn't matter that technically Gibbs wasn't in a position to give him orders right now. Gibbs was the boss and always would be. The small technicality that he was recovering from a surgery in a hospital bed and that he was in fact outranking him at the moment didn't change that.<p>

The further and deeper into the underground levels he sprinted, the more aware he became that he had just crossed a line with Gibbs he never had wanted to cross. Gibbs tolerated much, but defying him was not one of those things. You followed your orders or you were off the team. And Tony had no problem with that. After joining NCIS he had learned quickly that Gibbs usually gave out reasonable orders. And over the years, the few times he had become too obsessed with a hunt and started to lose his objectivity and with that ability to see straight, he let Tony be his voice of reason and listened to him. At least to some degree. His way of protecting the team from his obsessions was usually to go at it solo, letting Tony take over while he chased his white whales.

But this hadn't been one of those occasions. If at all, it was rather Tony who was doing his best to audition for the role of Ahab this time. The orders he had been given had been reasonable. They had the directors, they had witnesses and prisoners to interrogate, they had stopped most of the attacks, minimized the damage as much as they could and they had gathered a lot of evidence that was going to need months to be sorted out. From all point of views, this op already was a success. So no need to risk his life to stop Balance from blowing all of this up.

But for him it wasn't enough. They didn't know enough about Balance, about that Circle of Five, about their funding, their communication, their plans. Maybe there was nothing to be found here but his gut told him otherwise. They were going to great lengths to make sure they didn't get their hands on the data gathered here. The ruse to smoke them out, the rigging of the compound. All to protect some worthless data? No, he thought not.

Bishop was the AD. That made him a powerful man, privy to a lot of sensitive and even secret data. He had to be a key player in Balance, high in their ranks. Hell, he could be one of that Circle. At least that was what his gut told him. And if he was right, then the data they could retrieve from his computers was invaluable.

He'd lost enough battles ever since facing Balance for the first time on that dock. They shot Gibbs, tried to kill his entire team, scared kids to death, killed his agents, blew up the Kodak Theater and had the audacity to attack Pearl Harbor, New York and Washington on the same day, as if the people living there had not suffered enough in the past.

It. Was. Enough.

They had cleared the hallways pretty well coming in, so he only encountered a little resistance as he ran back in at full speed. The one he did he eliminated quickly, not having the time to play nice. If he could, he wouldn't shoot to kill, but he'd make sure they wouldn't give him any more trouble. It probably wouldn't make much difference, not if they were drilled the same way as the others terrorists they'd met so far, preferring to kill themselves rather than be arrested. Fine with him. They were nothing more than foot soldiers, they had Crest and Bishop in custody and on suicide watch and right now, he was after bigger fish.

He had a feeling an old _friend_ was nearby and boy, did he hope he was right.

He was.

As he reached the control room, none other than Tom Turner was sitting at the controls, his fingers flying over the keyboard. With great satisfaction, Tony swung his automatic machine gun onto his back and drew his beloved Sig Sauer, leveling it at Tom's head. "You've no idea how glad I am to find you here, Tommyboy. Hands in the air. You're under arrest, _again_."

Tom stopped what he was doing and slowly swiveled the chair to face him, his hands, empty this time, going up. All good so far. But the sarcastic smirk on the man's face told him to be prepared for anything. This was not a man who minded much about being disturbed, let alone being arrested. Which told him that this was far from over. "Director. You're not supposed to be here. Then again, after your knack of showing up at the most impractical times and places this last couple of days, I had a feeling you'd cross our way once again. Personally, I'm glad it's you. It'll be a great pleasure for me to kill you once and for all."

Tony carefully swept his eyes around the room, looking for any traps. He couldn't see anything, but Tom was way too confident to not have a last trump card in his hand. Maybe he'd already activated the bomb? Slowly, he entered the room, approaching Tom. "Oh, Tommyboy. Many have tried before. As you can see, I'm still alive and kicking. If one of us is going to die today, I promise you, pal, it's not gonna be me," he told him with a wide grin. "Hands behind your head and down onto the ground."

Not very surprisingly, Tom did none of these things. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, looking him straight into the eyes, a smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. "Now, we both know I'm not gonna do that. I must say, you surprised us. We planned this for years, thought we knew all the players we'd have to beat. _You_ never showed up on our threat analyses." His eyes narrowed and for the first time, Tony could see the simmering rage beneath the indifferent exterior. Oh yeah, this was going to be a brutal fight. "We underestimated you."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You don't expect me to apologize, do you? But if it's any consolation, many people underestimate NCIS." Because in the end, it was mainly NCIS who carried away the victory. He only had a little to do with that.

"I won't do it again," Tom replied and stood up, slowly. Tony's alarm bells started to ring. "Then again, after today, you'll be history so that won't be a problem."

"Seriously? 'You'll be history'?" Tony mocked, readying his stance. Probably it'd be for the best to simply shoot the guy. He knew that'd be what Gibbs would do. But he wanted him alive. This little chat confirmed to him what he had suspected all along: Tom was high up within the ranks of Balance, so his Intel was most likely to be a good juicy steak. He wanted it. But most of all, he itched for a fight with the annoying bastard. It was stupid, he knew that, petty even. But he couldn't help it. And in Tom's eyes he could see the same hunger. "You disappoint me, Tommy. I truly expected something more original from you."

The feral smile was the only warning he got before Tom exploded into a flurry of action. He didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger. Just because he wanted him alive didn't mean he couldn't shoot him. He got him in the leg, which normally should have dropped a guy, but either he missed, which he thought unlikely at that distance, only grazed him, which was possible he thought as Tom really was fast, or the bastard was hooked up on something and simply didn't feel the pain. That was as far as his thoughts could go before Tom pummeled into him, slamming him into the wall with the force of a bulldozer. The grip on his Sig loosened. Tom drew him away, only to slam him once more against the brick wall, one of his hands grabbing his right and give it an extra shove. With a loud clatter, his Sig fell to the ground. His already bruised ribs ached under the new abuse and the air was pressed out of his lungs.

But Tom wasn't the only one who could ignore the pain. With a roar he pushed back, tackling Tom onto the control desk. Again, the man hardly blinked as he used his new position to draw up his knees before kicking him right in the chest.

Tony stumbled backwards, his ribs screeching with agony. He gritted his teeth. Okay. Playtime was over. He couldn't afford for this to go on much longer. As Tom rolled off the desk and charged forward, he drew the knife he carried in an ankle sheath. He let Tom barrel into him again. It hurt but it also gave him the perfect position to ram the knife to the hilt into his stomach.

In any normal fight, this should have been the end of it. But why should this end in a normal fashion when ever since this case had started, nothing had ever gone as it was supposed to go. Tom didn't react to the knife in his stomach, unless you counted the short bark of laughter he let out before, with gleaming eyes, he rammed his elbow into Tony's already sore ribs with such force that they both had no problem in hearing the bones crack. The pain blinded Tony momentarily, long enough for Tom to kick out his legs and drop him to the floor, giving him a vicious kick in his other side. Tony curled himself in, but used that action to shift his position and kick the bastard hard in the backs of his knees so he dropped as well. Twisting further, he rolled himself onto Tom to hold him down.

Unbelievable. The guy wasn't even sweating while he felt drops of his own sweat damping his hair and clothes. And he was still smirking. It wasn't Tony's first fight with someone high on some drug, but this was beyond everything he'd ever encountered. "What on Earth are you on?"

Tom sneered. "Drugs? Please, I'm not that stupid."

He sounded truly offended. Plus, his pupils were the normal size, no feverish or crazed gleam in them either. Nor any sign of pain. With a knife still rammed deeply into his stomach. He believed that he was clean, so that only left ... "You don't feel pain," he realized, remembering some of his lectures back in OSU about rare diseases, especially those players had to look out for, and felt dread run freezingly over his back.

Tom smiled. "You're smarter than you look," he said in a pleased tone before twisting out of his grasp, throwing Tony off.

Rolling, Tony jumped back on his feet to face Tom who was already standing again, smirking in his usual way. Great. This changed everything. Short of killing him, he wasn't sure he could manage to detain Turner. That was, if he survived this fight. He could hold his own in a fight just fine and he could ignore the pain for the time being, but that was very different from not feeling any pain at all. Tom showed no sign of slowing down or weakening. Logically, at some point he'd have to have lost enough blood to render him unconscious but there was no telling when that would be and just what damage he could inflict meanwhile.

"Now, as much pleasure as this is," Tom started, reaching under the control desk he was standing at to come up with a gun, trained on Tony, "I do have other plans I need to attend to. Back over there," he ordered, waving with the gun towards the corner opposite the door.

Tony didn't move, not wanting to give in so easily. Then again, his options weren't really looking all that good. He'd lost his Sig. Sure, it was somewhere around, but by the time he'd dived for it, Tom would have already riddled him with bullets. Same with swinging the machine gun from his back to the front or going for his backup piece. Charging him would be an equally stupid move. He still had his belt knife, but after the little impact his first knife had done he didn't really think that would help him much either, even if he did manage to get it out without Tom killing him first.

Slowly, he held up his arms and walked across the room, doing his best to walk straight, without limping. At the same time he always kept an eye on Tom. If he looked away or the gun wavered just a bit ... But no such luck. "So what now? You going to execute me like you did Major Peck? That was you after all, wasn't it?" He had no doubt whatsoever about who had pulled the trigger. But if he was going to die, he at least wanted closure of the case that was going to kill him. And if he survived after all, all the better for having a confession for the many reports he'd have to hand in.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "And waste a bullet on you? No, I think I'll let the bomb do that job for me. Give your people something to do as they try to piece you back together."

Narrowing his eyes, Tony mulled his words over. Slowly, he nodded. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it? That's what you kidnapped our bosses for. To blow them up so we would need weeks to confirm if they've been killed in the explosion." He frowned, something still not making sense. "Why not just blow them up at the mansion where they were meeting? Why wait? Why here? It would have drawn suspicion towards Bishop. To find all their bodies here. Ahh, wait. That's what you wanted all along, wasn't it? A man like Bishop wouldn't be so stupid as to hide them on his property, not to mention why should he blow it up? It would have looked as if it was a set-up." He grinned bitterly. "Let me guess? By some of his colleagues or even someone high up in the White House. So Bishop, wrongfully accused, would then appear fighting for a clean house and dedicating his life to finding the terrorists responsible for killing his friends and colleagues and so many more. He'd be the hero, a veritable Robin Hood, battling the mean sheriff and the evil king, protecting the poor peasants. Guaranteeing him a sure win in the next presidential election."

Tom paused to give him a speculating look. But he said nothing. Inwardly, Tony sighed. So no confession either. This really wasn't his case. "You really thought that would work? That we'd be so easily fooled. Pal, even if thanks to Major Peck we wouldn't have discovered Balance and its plans, we're not stupid." He frowned, thinking shortly. "All right, we're not _all_ that stupid."

Walking over to a red box fixed to the wall, Tom opened it. Tony could see what looked like a timer and a lot of wires. Tom put in a code and the display of the timer sprang to life, starting to count down. Tony couldn't see how much time there was on the counter. Closing the box again, Tom returned to the control desk and pressed a last button. On the screens, a lot of data appeared. Finally, Tom walked over to him. "It's almost a shame that this is the last time we see each other. I must say, I enjoyed dealing with you. There are not many who can challenge me."

"Aww, I'm touched. Will you send me a Christmas card from now on? Maybe even a Valentine greeting? Not that I swing that way, but it's always nice to know you still got it, you know," he answered with a goofy grin.

Tom chuckled - before he struck him hard in the temple with the butt of his gun. His vision blackening, Tony dropped to the ground like a fly. But he desperately fought against losing consciousness. He did play possum though, lying still, acting as if he was out cold. It was the only chance he had to survive this.

He listened as Tom walked away. Shortly after, the door fell closed and he heard the lock engage. Blinking, he carefully checked that Tom was indeed gone. He was. Groaning, Tony pushed himself up to kneel, leaning heavily against the wall, as he willed the hammering in his head to stop and his vision to clear. Damn, that had hurt. And still, every fiber of him wanted to chase after Tom, to bring him down.

He gritted his teeth. Problem was, that would be the action of a man out for revenge for Tom hurting his family, killing his men. And overall being an insufferable asshole. Not the action of a special agent or even less of a director whose first and foremost priority had to be, if there were no lives to protect, to secure the evidence. Letting Tom get away wasn't a good option; one that would cost lives down the road, he was sure. But stopping this bomb, saving the data, right now, it was more important. Not to mention that he had a chance to make a difference here whereas his chance to catch up with Tom and then actually apprehend him was much slimmer. Even if it went against his nature and he truly hated the choice he had to make here, he'd do it.

So he drew himself up until he stood on unsteady legs, trying to keep from throwing up as he fished for his cell phone. He still had no reception, but that was not what he needed anyway. Calling up the camera, he switched it to filming and positioned it so that it recorded the data film merging over the screens before he stumbled over to the red box on the wall, opening it.

Seven minutes left.

Okay. He took a good look at the timer and the wiring but no inspiration struck him. Damn it, where was Ziva when you needed her?

Oh well. First things first. He limped back to the control desk, going behind it. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. Mindful of his aching body, he squatted down slowly, grabbed the pack of wires and yanked. The machines sputtered, then all screens went black. McGee and Abby would have kittens over this cold turkey method and he had no idea if it would stop the deleting of the files, but it was worth a shot. It had once worked for Gibbs so why not for him too? Breathing in deeply, he breathed out again as he made a Herculean effort to straighten up and stumble back to the red box. On the way over he snatched his phone and took a picture of the bomb. Fruitless most likely, after all he'd still need reception to send it out, but who knew. He checked the time. A little more than four minutes left.

Biting his lip, he looked around for inspiration while he freed his belt knife. His eyes fell on something he hadn't seen in years. But it may just be his salvation.

Hooked up on the wall was an old fashioned landline telephone that looked as if it was way older than him. Hell, maybe even older than Gibbs.

Perfect. Crossing his fingers, he lifted the handset. And whooped at the clear dialing tone sounding like a fanfare in his ear.

* * *

><p>Her heart had refused to slow down ever since McGee had phoned her to bring her up to date with what was happening at the Navy Yard, or rather said what was not going on there but apparently in the Hamptons now. It felt as if it wanted to jump out of her chest and fly all the way down to the Hamptons to knock some sense into her partner. He had promised! To have all their backs and be there if they should need him. Running off on a mission broke that promise! Moreover, he had indirectly promised to be waiting for her return so they could finish their unfinished business. Meaning, staying back at the Yard where he was safe and guarded. Going on a recovery mission without proper backup was not keeping that promise but quite the contrary!<p>

She wished he were here so she could hit him for his recklessness. Or better yet, she wished at least to be in the Hamptons now, making sure the idiot did not kill himself. But no, she was stuck here in Chicago, securing evidence and overseeing the wrap up. Her hands balled to fists and, she shoved them angrily into her pockets, glaring at the agents and cops who dared to come too close.

If she had to lose her heart, why could it not have been to some professor or music teacher or maybe just a simple banker. Someone with a profession that didn't require life insurance and a will, ready for the worst case that could happen any time. Or at least someone who lived a safer life than Tony. Like a firefighter or an astronaut. But no, she had to lose her heart to a man who seemed to have little or no regard for his own safety, putting everything and everyone ahead of himself. Fall for a man who may be a much better man than her father was, but he sure was as married and dedicated to his life consuming job as Eli David was. A man who infuriated her on a daily if sometimes not hourly basis.

It was stupid. Weak. Robbing her of all good sense or logic.

She glared at the large building she and her team had saved, and sighed. Without Tony, this building wouldn't be standing anymore. Thousands of people would be dead or become terminally ill within the next forty-eight hours. She, McGee, Ducky, Palmer and Gibbs would most likely have been dead since yesterday morning, and so would Shelley and her children. Without Tony, she would never have survived Somalia. Not just physically but also with her mind and heart more or less intact. Without him being there, always, whether she wanted him to or not, she would be alone. He could make her laugh, even if she felt shattered and numb inside. She had his forgiveness for things he could only fathom she had done, unasked.

Her father may have given her life and taught her everything she needed to survive. But it was Tony who had showed her patiently over the years how to actually live that life.

Unbidden, unshed tears burned in her eyes and her heart constricted painfully as she held back a sob. Yes, she was maybe weak for loving Tony, but it didn't matter anymore. He had also taught her that it was okay to be weak sometimes. That it was only natural to not be perfect. That a little weakness was nothing compared to the silent strength love brought into your life.

She wanted a chance to tell him all this. She wanted a chance to show him that she finally understood and was not afraid anymore. That she welcomed the weakness if it also meant to have him in her life as more than a friend and partner.

And he had promised her that chance! He had no right to take it away from them both by getting himself killed!

How she hated this! To be hundreds of miles away while he was putting himself in danger. It was bad enough that he willingly and unnecessarily put himself in harm's way but that no one was there who could properly watch his back was what had her heart beating fast, and dread making her feel a cold that no amount of artificial heat could ever warm up. Only days ago the thought that only the heat that seemed to emanate constantly from Tony's body could keep her warm anymore would have freaked her out, but she was quickly learning to accept it as undeniable fact.

He had banned her from his protection detail and she had even come to understand why, but clearly having her guarding his life would still be better than having no one else but Trent Kort! Her focus may be screwed at the moment where his life was concerned but at least it was on keeping him alive at all costs. She didn't trust that the CIA agent wouldn't actually mind if his temporarily CO was killed in action. And after all, it wouldn't be the first time Tony had regarded his life as collateral damage for the greater good.

If something happened to Tony, this time no force in this world would be able to stop her from making Trent Kort pay for every scrape and every bruise her partner suffered while under his protection. And, heaven forbid, if Kort only came back with his body, he was going to die slowly and painfully before she followed Tony into death. She'd show him what the training of a Kidon fighter and being the daughter of Mossad's director had taught her, taking torture and killing almost to a form of art. She had learned to tame the monster living within her, and a great part of that was thanks to Gibbs and Tony, but that didn't mean it wasn't still there, ready to break free of its chains if provoked. And no provocation was bigger than threatening her beast's master.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she realized how ridiculous her thoughts sounded. It was embarrassing. But not embarrassing enough to deny its truth.

Her phone rang and she hastily checked the number, hoping it to be Abby or someone else with an update; or even better, Tony himself to reassure her of his health. When she saw it was an unfamiliar number, she debated on ignoring it. She had not the patience for unwanted callers right now.

But she answered it anyway because one never knew if it wasn't important. Besides, it could be Kort or someone else calling from the Hamptons. "Yes?"

"Ziva."

The sigh of relief was unmistakable and she felt the clutch on her heart loosening. "Tony. Are you ..."

But he interrupted her with an urgency that had that clutch squeezing hard again even before his words registered in her brain. "I'm standing in front of a timer and there are a little less than three minutes left. Thought you could perhaps help me avoid one blast of an exit from this world."

Unspeakable fear freezing everything inside her warred against her need to act fast. Her training won. "What is it attached to?"

"A lot of wires waiting to trigger an explosion to take out the whole compound. No explosives that I can see but Abby said there should be enough C4 here to make an island out of a peninsula."

She turned around, gripping the wood of the fence used to mark the evacuation zone. "Run," she ordered, her voice rough.

"Not an option, Zee-vah, so if you could pull out a few of your ninja skills and put them to work a miracle, now would be the time."

She frowned, a million questions on her tongue. Why could he not run? She had noticed a slight slur to his words. Was he too hurt to escape? But somehow, she managed to push those questions and the accompanying fear back to try to concentrate on that miracle. "Describe it to me, everything you can see."

"Little black timer box with ten wires disappearing into the bottom of the box it's in. From there, one thick wire leads to the wall. Two and a half minutes. I don't suppose it's a good idea to just yank out all the wires?"

"No!" Ziva protested harshly. "That will trigger it for sure. Can you open up the timer to see inside?"

"In the time left with nothing but my belt knife at hand?" he replied sarcastically. She knew it was his way to deal with the stress, still, now was hardly the time! She was just about to order him to at least try, because it was really the only thing that could give them a chance, when he continued. "You bet I can. Already started to dismantle it and I'm almost there. How are things going in Chicago? Did Mark and the rest of the team give you a hard time?"

Her grip on the barricade tightened and she felt one of her fingernails break. "Tony! You really want to do chat chat now?"

"Chit chat, not chat chat. And why not? If I make it out of here, I'll probably have to do performance reports. Which is actually not that great of an incentive to survive this stint. But anyway, now's as good a time to start as any." He huffed and she could hear something clatter in the background. Her breath stopped, only resuming its rhythm as he continued, softly, almost pleading. "Besides, talking calms me, you know that."

How could she refuse that request? "It was a bit strained in the beginning. But Agent York and I came to an understanding that worked well for us and the others followed his example," she replied. "He disobeyed a direct order though as I told him to leave me. Not that I have any intention of reporting him."

"Is that right? And what were you doing, when you gave that order, Temporary Supervisory Agent David?"

Despite everything, she couldn't help but smile at her partner homing right in on the relevant point of her report. "I was deactivating the bomb."

"So he did his job," he summarized.

"Yes," she sighed. "You were right. He is a good man. And a good agent."

There was another clatter and again she held her breath until he spoke. "I had no doubts. But it's good to have it confirmed before I recommend him for Ida's post as team leader. Not sure what good it's going to do, but he sure deserves it."

"So do you. Maybe you could take over the team," she replied, more because upholding the conversation was the only thing still keeping her sane. It didn't stop her from internally counting down the seconds though and her panic grew with every moment that went by.

"Want to get rid of me?"

His tone was light but she was not so easily fooled. "No. Not at all. We would all hate to lose you as our SFA," she admitted something she would never do normally. His ego was as legendary as Gibbs' glare after all. But he had less than a minute and a half left. Now it was the time for truth and truth only. "But you are a good leader. You deserve your own team, you have done for a long time now. And this way, you would stay in Washington, in the office. You wouldn't have to leave in order to move up. We could still see each other every day." He could stay near them all, which she knew was important to all of them, though to be honest, right now she couldn't care less about the others' needs.

"Got it. There are three wires going from the timer display to a contact I think connects everything to a chip card or something like that. From there we have the ten wires already mentioned. Any ideas?"

How could he be so calm? Then again, of course she knew the answer to that. Usually, she'd be as calm as him, if not even more so. She was trained for this after all. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, visualized the device he had described while trying to calm down enough to think clearly. "Try to interrupt the contact. But be careful, check first for invisible lasers or very fine wires. If that doesn't work you need to cut one of the three wires. Are they colored?"

"No, all white. What do I use to disrupt the contact?"

"Try a piece of paper, folded if possible. Or some thin piece of wood. Nothing metal, that could short it. As for the wires, try to dismantle the sheathing and see what was used for the wires." He would have to be careful with that too and would most likely not have enough time to do so. He didn't answer and she could almost visualize him as he tried to calm his hand to slowly place a small piece between the contacts while the timer mercilessly counted down. Less than a minute now. She wanted to ask how it was going, for him to reassure her that he had stopped the bomb and would come home to them all. To her. So she kept silent because she knew for her to break his concentration now could be fatal.

Twenty seconds.

Suddenly, he cursed and her heart plummeted in dread. It hadn't worked. Oh god. That left only ... "The wires!" she urged him on.

"I know." He was absolutely calm. "One out of three. Guess now we'll see if my gut is as reliable as Gibbs'."

Ten seconds.

"Tony ..." There was so much she wanted to tell him.

"I know," he said softly and she knew he understood what she hadn't the time anymore to capture in words. It was a small solace but far from enough.

Five seconds.

"All bets on the left one. Cutting now."

She held her breath as she was sure he did too.

Three seconds. Two. One.

Nothing.

Her grip on the phone was so tight it all but crushed it and she could barely find her voice. "Tony?"

TBC!

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm evil. So evil I'm almost ashamed of myself. But only just. I just couldn't resist, it was so perfect to end it here. But I hope you still liked it anyway. I'm working on the next one and hope to have it ready soon. It's either the last one or the second to last, can't tell it yet. Thank you so, so, so much for the many wonderful reviews, you keep me going and aiming for giving you all a worthy end to this story. <em>


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Tony?!"

Taking a shaky breath, he slowly opened one eye before following with the next. Huh. That's it. Left was going to be his preferred choice for the rest of his life. Which looked like as if it was going to last a while longer yet according to the timer that had just stopped at zero. Jesus.

"TONY!"

Wincing, he held the receiver away. Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tony gave in to his weak knees and slid down the wall to sit. His heart pounded in his ears and he felt slightly delirious with euphoria. Fuck. That had been way too close. Like as if he could hear death growling because he'd once again managed to jump off his scythe. God. He was getting too old for that much excitement.

A soft sound that sounded an awful lot like quiet keening reminded him that he was not alone, not really. "I'm here," he roughly reassured his partner, closing his eyes. A hysterical laugh bubbled up suddenly. "Remind me to kiss Gibbs for fine tuning my gut that fantastically."

There was no answer but the keening had stopped, which was enough for him at the moment. He rubbed his free hand over his face. The adrenalin that had kept him going the last forty-eight hours or so left him with a rush and he suppressed a groan as his body started to protest vehemently for being ignored its needs for so long.

In his ear, Ziva said something in Hebrew and he grinned. "Ziva, Ziva, you have any idea how sexy you sound when you speak Hebrew? It turns me on every time." Red lights started to flash in his mind but he ignored them as sitting up was becoming more and more difficult. Breathing was also getting harder and harder. Damn. He hoped one of the broken ribs hadn't penetrated his lungs.

"Tony? You alright?"

She was worried. He hated it when she was so worried that you could see it. Or hear in this case. It was just not normal. "'m fine." More or less. After all, he was still alive and kicking. Okay, maybe not so much kicking at the moment. Unlike Tommyboy. He bet he was still kicking, even with his knife in his stomach. God, he hated that guy. Which reminded him ... "Tom stole m' knife. Need to put out ' BOLO. Can't be far. Block the roads, harbors, airfields. Check hospitals. He'll need help soon even if he can't feel it. Hell, if we're lucky, m' knife 'll kill him yet."

"I'll have someone send paramedics down to you. Just hold on."

There was that worry again. Totally uncalled for. He was fine. "BOLO."

"It's already out, Tony."

He shook his head, which hurt. Note to himself: Not move his head again anytime soon. "Update. Been here, hurt, my knife in his stomach, armed."

"Okay, we'll have it updated. Where are you hurt?"

Sliding further down, he carefully lowered himself down to the floor. His world was becoming fuzzy as pain engulfed his whole being more and more. Shit. Looked like he was going to break the great DiNozzo rule. Not that he was going to admit to it. "Ziva? Think 'm gonna sleep for a little while now."

He could hear Ziva calling his name again with alarm, telling him to stay awake, but the sound of her voice grew fainter and fainter until there was no sound anymore in the pitch black darkness his world had become.

* * *

><p>"Report!" Fornell growled impatient.<p>

On the screen in MTAC, Operations Manager Hetty Lange raised an eyebrow and she had every right to. It wasn't her fault after all that she wasn't DiNozzo or someone else who could tell him if he had let his best friend's kid be killed. Luckily for Fornell, she overlooked his foul mood without comment and did as asked. "The explosion site is under control. While it _is_ still burning, the fire department has it under control. Preliminary tests show the air is clear of the bacteria now. We will keep the site quarantined until CDC clears it. Meanwhile, we were able to apprehend three members of Balance. One killed himself before we could stop him, the other two are under suicide watch and are being interrogated as we speak. Hopefully, we'll have a location on their base here in LA soon enough."

Fornell nodded. "And your agents?" he asked, softly.

The lines around her mouth tightened. "It was confirmed that they contracted Yersina Pestis and are undergoing treatment. The hospital quarantined them. It is too early yet to be able to tell their chances of survival. However I do hope the antidote is being sent here as we speak."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. The existence of the antidote wasn't common knowledge. Actually, it was on a need to know basis and he knew for sure that Ms Henrietta Lange wasn't on that short list. Well, well, he thought and despite everything found himself smiling, it looked as if that woman's reputation was keeping all its promises. "Yes, Director DiNozzo had it sent right after we heard about your agents. It should be in LA in a couple hours."

"Thank you. I hope he comes back from his recovery mission safe so I can thank him personally."

The screen went black and he chuckled. Yeah, that woman was not to be underestimated. He was about to turn around and ask someone to call the Hamptons when the screen came alive. Commander McGarret and Agent Pierce, looking exhausted, grim but at the same time also relieved. "Pearl Harbor is back under our control, the bombs were found and disabled. Most of the strike team Balance sent died in the battle, we were able to detain two though. We have five dead police officers and one critically injured Seal." McGarret stopped for a moment, his jaw working, before he continued in a clipped voice. "We locked down the base and the commander ordered a complete sweep. All personnel will be controlled as well."

"You suspect a mole," Fornell summarized. Damn, just how many places did Balance infiltrate?

McGarret nodded. "Only way they could come onto base and place those bombs. My team's already started to check phone and financial records."

"Remember to put any members of Balance you apprehended under suicide watch and keep us up to date about the ongoing investigation," he ordered.

"Yes, Sir."

The screen went black once more and he breathed deeply. Still no word about DiNozzo. "Get me Kort on the phone, ASAP!" he growled, sending the techs in MTAC scurrying. While they tried to get the CIA agent on the phone, the door slid open and Ms Sciuto hurried in, her eyes big and worried. "I couldn't stand it anymore! Have you any news on Tony? Because I have nothing since he went in again! His phone's still off the radar, the satellite feed gives me absolutely nothing and I've got no new evidence to distract me with so I'm literally going crazy down there."

"No." He saw one of the guys giving him the go. "But I'm about to find out. Agent Kort, report!"

"All directors arrived at the hospital. Director Vance and AD Clark were injured. While Director Vance should recover fine, AD Clark is in critical condition and undergoing surgery as we speak. His doctors were not too optimistic." Fornell bit hard on his tongue to restrain himself from reacting. Clark had been a good agent and he was a good superior now. And a friend. Damn. "The rest of them were unhurt and with a bit of rest and nourishment will be fine. Director Trammer was not so lucky. He died of his injuries shortly after their relocation."

Slowly, Fornell nodded. Yeah, he had already heard that they had lost one of them. To hear it was the NSA Director was a blow - and considering Lorne's betrayal awfully convenient - and he asked himself if there hadn't been cold intent behind his killing. They'd have to interview the powerful men and their prisoners very thoroughly but also carefully to see if the injuries were accidental or intended.

But that could wait. Now, with LA and Pearl Harbor under control and the directors recovered, there was only one mission and one man left. "What's DiNozzo's status?"

There was a slight pause. "No idea."

Rage bubbled up but he kept a lid on it. For now. "What?"

"He ordered me away as you well heard yourself."

That prick! "Yeah, but he is still your boss at the moment. If you had to leave I expect you at least left some men back who monitored his progress."

"He ordered _all_ personnel off site, remember?"

Beside him, Ms Sciuto balled her fists and growled in a way he had so far only heard from Gibbs. His attempt at it faded in comparison to it but that was okay. His growl had always been less grizzly and more wolf. "And you followed that order?"

"As you said, he's my CO. Who am I to question his orders let alone disobey them?" Kort answered in his usual sneer, obviously oblivious to the grave he was digging himself with every word he uttered.

With a hiss, Fornell had the tech guys hang up on him. He was going to deal with that asshole later. His first priority was still DiNozzo and as Kort obviously couldn't provide him with any information on him he wouldn't waste anymore time with that man. He was about to order that they track down one of the police officers that still had to be close to the scene when one tech announced that he had David on the line.

He sighed but knew he couldn't ignore the call. "What you've got?"

"Director DiNozzo needs immediate help." Sciuto gasped and his own mouth may have opened a bit as well. What the hell ... "He called me for help with deactivating the bomb which he achieved. Unfortunately, he later passed out from injuries sustained in a battle with the man who shot Gibbs, Tom Turner. Tony did not elaborate on exactly how badly he was injured but if he passed out from it, it has to be substantial." David's voice was calm but not even with all her experience and background could she stop it from failing at that moment.

Ms Sciuto let out a sob and Fornell felt his own gut twist in fear for the boy as well. He did not do worry well, especially when he felt helpless. His mind raced, thinking about how he could get DiNozzo the help he needed as fast as possible and he didn't like any of the options he had. Oh, Kort was so going to pay for this.

Meanwhile, David had recovered her voice. "However, he did order the setting up of road blocks, and that all harbors and airfields near the Hamptons should be put under surveillance. Also, he reported that he rammed his knife into Turner's abdomen, so he should need medical help as well. Hospitals and private practices should be observed. The BOLO out on him is to be updated accordingly."

Of course. But first things first. "I'll have an ambulance and police escort sent to the compound immediately."

"Sent? Are they not on site? I thought Agent Kort and the police were already in place as his backup?" David asked sharply and the threat in her voice was unmistakable. Good. Kort deserved all the pain she was going to inflict on him for not taking care of her partner.

Again, before he could speak, one of the techs interrupted, this time to announce that he had McGee on the line. Exasperated by the team's timing instinct, but still also smiling inwardly, Fornell told David to hold and asked McGee the same initial question he had asked her.

McGee's answer was as surprising as David's had been, the rage barely controlled in the usually gentle man. "My team and I just arrived at the compound in the Hamptons. It seems to be abandoned by both Balance and our guys? What the hell's going on? Where is Tony? He would never have left this scene unsecured."

"Timmy? How did you get to the Hamptons so fast? I thought you stayed put after all?" Sciuto asked, excited but obviously puzzled.

Good question. Last he checked, McGee was still in New York. "The captain left in charge lent us one of the NYPD choppers as soon as he heard about the recovery mission. He insisted actually. From what I gathered, he knows Tony himself," McGee said as if that explained everything. And after working this close with DiNutso himself these past couple days, he guessed it did.

"DiNozzo ordered everyone off as soon as he learned the compound was rigged while he went back in to disable the bomb. According to Agent David, he succeeded in doing so but was injured in the process and now requires help," Fornell told him.

The gritting of his teeth was unmistakable, even through the transmission. "What are his injuries?"

"Unknown. Just hurry," Fornell replied tightly. This was all taking too much damn time.

"On it," the young agent promised grimly. "Last known location?"

It was Sciuto who answered him, standing by one of the stations, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "The control room. I've sent the blueprints I've found to your PDA. Bring him back to us, Timmy."

"I will," he promised her, and no one in MTAC had any doubts that the young agent would do just that.

* * *

><p>If Tim had been alone, he would probably have rushed in, regardless to any danger still lingering around. Everything in him screamed to get to his injured partner as fast as possible. But he wasn't alone. He had a team with him and while he hadn't known them for more than a few hours, it was his team and he was responsible for them. So he forced himself to go by the book, always taking cover and checking before advancing. It was painstakingly slow, or at least it felt like that to him.<p>

Thank God they didn't encounter anyone still alive, just some bodies. Tony sure did a good job clearing the way in, he thought dryly, having no problem in recognizing Tony's neat double taps.

He was forever thankful to Captain Rawlings for lending them that chopper. As soon as he had hung up with Abby after she had told him about Tony's foolish mission he had been restless, itching to go down to the Hamptons himself because he was worried about his partner and not trusting Kort one bit with Tony's six. Rightly so, as this abandoned place showed. If he ever got his hands on Kort ...

Rawlings had arrived at that point to take over the scene and Tim, tired and worried, had ranted. The captain had listened sympathetically if perhaps a bit indulgently, but as soon as Tim had said Tony's name, his demeanor had changed to intensity and he'd asked if that would be the Anthony DiNozzo Jr who had worked Philadelphia and Baltimore as a detective. Baffled, Tim had confirmed it, and next thing Rawlings was telling him to take one of their choppers and go.

He hadn't needed to be told twice. He'd left Probie 2 back to oversee the wrapping up of the scene and took off with the rest of his probies. He was curious how Rawlings knew Tony though and sincerely hoped he'd get a chance to weasel it out of his partner. Not that it was that surprising that a cop would know his partner. Many cops did, even some who hadn't served in the same cities as Tony. And if they didn't know them personally then they'd at least heard of him. It had taken him a while to learn about that, for a while not really questioning it when a lot of the cops they met seemed to know DiNozzo. Not until overhearing two rookies at a scene talking about Tony - and boy, that had been some serious hero worship in the works - did he learn that Tony indeed was some kind of a legend among the blue brothers.

Back then it had surprised him in a way - and in another way not. Gibbs had always been a legend and while Tim had been proud to be chosen for his team by the legend himself, mostly, he'd been nervous of working for him and his team. DiNozzo had been part of the legend too, if only because of having worked for Gibbs for more than two years already, something unprecedented since Agent Burley had left. So anyone who could stand Gibbs for so long was worth mentioning in the legend of Gibbs. Plus, Gibbs had handpicked Tony himself. Until then, the agents on his team had been assigned to him, even Burley. But not with DiNozzo, no, he met him on a case, worked with him, a cop and hell, everybody knew Gibbs hated to work with cops, and as soon as the case was over, he marched DiNozzo to Human Resources himself.

So yeah, Tony kinda had always been the stuff of a legend if perhaps rather of the legend of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs than the one about Anthony D. DiNozzo Jr. As a probie, he had well known that and been accordingly nervous of meeting and working with him. But then he'd worked more and more with DiNozzo, got to know the man behind the name - and had fast forgotten about his SFA being part of any legend. To be fair, Tony had made that easy for him with all the pranks, hazing, name calling and jokes on his account, not to mention his general rather juvenile behavior. Hence the surprise when being reminded, that among cops, Tony actually had a legendary reputation and this time, the legend was all about him and him alone.

Today, after having worked with Tony for so many years, after all the things they'd been through together, from Kate's death, his first kill, losing Gibbs to retirement, almost losing Tony countless times until finally their mission together in Somalia, he was the first to defend Tony against anyone - outside the team - who spoke a bad word against him and especially after these past days would be the first to sign up for the fan club of Legend DiNozzo. Not that he was ever going to admit that to anyone out loud. Somehow, word would get around to Tony and then living with him would become insufferable.

That was, if he was still around for his ego to inflate to such a so far unknown grandeur.

The grip on his SIG tightened involuntarily and despite all caution he hurried his probies along, taking the minimum amount of time to clear the way towards the control room. After what seemed to be half an eternity they finally reached the door that should lead to Tony.

It was locked. And as it was a solid steel door, throwing himself against it to crash or kick it open was out of the question from the get go. Damn! There was a control panel demanding a code to open it so no fancy lock picking would get him in either. Oh well. At least sometimes in the field it had to be of benefit that he was a MIT graduate and overall a technical geek. Grumbling, he fished for his PDA and quickly connected it to the panel, calling up his highly illegal decoding program. While it worked on opening the door, he waited impatiently, cursing whoever had locked his partner in like that, costing him even more precious time until he finally got to help Tony.

Most of all though, he thought of pretty much every curse he knew to throw it at Kort. The bastard was going down for leaving Tony without backup like that. Maybe he could team up with Abby and Ziva to maximize the damage to the man and his shady reputation. They just had to hurry, because he doubted there'd be much left of the CIA agent once Gibbs got his hands around Kort's neck. His being in the hospital would hopefully give them some time to ditch out their own revenge.

No one messed with Tony like that without having to answer to his team, especially not someone who was supposed to be an ally and have Tony's six.

His program pinged, signaling its success and sure enough, the massive door finally slid open, giving him access to his hurt partner. He didn't need a second invitation, already rushing in, completely disregarding every security protocol. First, he doubted there was still someone else in the room but Tony and second, he was the first in, his body giving his probies enough cover should he be wrong in his assumption.

One quick sweep of the room confirmed him that he had been right. Both with him believing there was no danger waiting for them in the room and with not wanting to lose any more time. The blueish tint to Tony's deathly pale face told him that his partner indeed needed help, fast.

"Get me an ETA of that ambulance," he ordered harshly as he rushed to Tony's side where he lay unconscious against the wall. With a hand that was astoundingly steady he quickly checked for a pulse while he stuck his other finger beneath his nose to make sure he was still breathing. To his immense relief he found both a pulse and breath, although both not as steady as he would have liked. Sighing in relief, he first checked him over to have an idea what he was dealing with. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see. The only open wound he could see was a deep gash on the side of his head like he was pistol whipped or struck hard with something else. It was bleeding heavily, then again, that didn't say much as all head wounds tended to bleed profusely. As Tony was also sporting bruises that were already starting to color, he guessed he'd been in a brutal fight. The head wound could explain the unconsciousness but judging from the blue hint in his lips, for sure there was at least some internal damage. Or had the lock on the door also shut down the air circulation? It was sticky in here, but that could just be because this was an underground room without windows.

Damn it.

Why did Tony always get himself hurt? And why did it always have to be the serious kind? There was never an easy way with Tony and injuries. Taking out a handkerchief Tim wiped the blood off his partner's face, trying to get a better look at his head wound. The gash was deep, and fresh blood still welled up. Throwing the soaked linen away, he brought out another, this time just pressing it onto the wound while he ran his other hand up and down Tony's body, needing to make sure he hadn't overlooked something.

He was almost disappointed he found nothing else and immediately felt ashamed. It was just, there was nothing else he could do at the moment but wait for the paramedics and that just about killed him. "Tony? Tony! Come on, wake up. Boss going's to kill you for laying down on the job," he tried to rose his unresponsive partner, knowing that if anything could coax him back into consciousness, it was Tony's fear of Gibbs combined with his constant need to prove himself to the boss.

But there was not even a flutter of an eyelid. Again he checked for a pulse and breath. Both there, still not as steady as they should be. Sighing, he looked around, taking in the scene. Scattered paper, overturned chair, bloodsplatter on the floor. They'd need to take samples of them, see if maybe some of it belonged to Tony's assailant. If they were lucky. The equipment in the room, as fine as it was, was dead. Narrowing his eyes, he saw a bunch of ripped out wires. Well, that would explain it, he thought with a grimace, remembering well Gibbs' and hence also Tony's preferred method of 'shutting down' sensitive systems. And finally, there was the bomb activation control.

Reading the four zeros on the timer display, he gulped, his pressure on Tony's wound automatically increasing. Slowly, he looked back at the pale body in front of him. God. It was a miracle his friend was laying here at all, albeit unnervingly unresponsive, and was not scattered around all the place in little pieces. "You need to stop doing this," he told Tony quietly, desperately. He wasn't sure how many more such 'almost' calls he could take, let alone the rest of their team. One of these days, Gibbs was actually going to kill DiNozzo just to spare all of them the constant worry their SFA put them through on a regular basis.

From outside, he heard running feet approaching. Finally! That had to be the paramedics. But just to be sure, he turned his body halfway towards the door, covering Tony while he kept the already soaked handkerchief still in place and pointed his gun, grim faced, at the center of the empty doorway.

No one was getting to Tony again, not on his watch.

* * *

><p>Ducky was tired. Very tired. Alas, it was little surprising, seeing that he hadn't been home for almost two days, and had had only a few hours of sleep in an uncomfortable chair on top of that. He wasn't as young as he used to be after all, not used to so little rest anymore. In his younger years though he'd loved to enjoy life in excess so if something occupied him way past his usual hours, his body usually didn't fail on him that fast.<p>

No, it was much more the constant worry that ate away at his reserves, leaving him exhausted. First the deep concern for his old friend, then the worry about what may lay ahead of them all if Balance indeed released the plague back onto humanity; the threat their bombs proposed to his dear colleagues – and finally being resigned once again to fearing for a friend, albeit a much younger one. Not to mention what harm the shared concern for their mutual friend was doing to his old friend's recovery process.

He did not want to imagine what losing Anthony would do to them all, mostly though to Jethro. Yet, as it was so often with unwanted thoughts, it was exactly that question that haunted him well into his dreams. He could only hope that none of those bête noirs would ever come true. It consoled him that these hopes were not unfounded. Anthony had proved to be very resilient over the years. Then again, that in itself was cause to worry further as logically, at some point, Anthony's amazing luck so far had to run dry.

Glancing over at Jethro, he prayed that today would not be the day for this to happen. Since the boy had said his goodbyes in such an extraordinarily fashion, his friend had been very quiet. He'd refused to rest, insisting on keeping the television on in order to catch all the news and staring out the windows whenever there was a commercial break or a topic he wasn't interested in.

Of course the hounds from the press were having a field day with these tragic events, their lust for sensational horror at least giving them a good sense of what was happening at the bomb sites. Knowing Timothy had been sent to New York and Ziva to Chicago, he had been very relieved to see them clearly in some fleeting shots, their missions successfully completed, as well as Agent Keller's team in Washington. His heart grew heavy, seeing the disastrous state of the Kodiak theater, thinking of the agents fighting for their lives. He had spoken with the doctors in LA, and referred them to Dr Pitt. Unfortunately, the fate of Agents Dieks and Blye was still unsure. Remembering how hard it had been for Anthony to overcome this dreadful disease it made him also very angry that human beings, especially fellow medics, had the audacity to purposefully infect people with the plague. His anger only grew when they showed footage of the battle raging at Pearl Harbor. Thankfully, the good men and women on base had been able to avert yet another disaster, though they had to pay a high price for keeping Pearl Harbor safe once again and their blood was soaking the earth. Again.

But there had been no word on anything going down in the Hamptons. He was unsure if that was a good sign or not. With everything going down throughout the whole country, maybe the press just didn't think one bomb exploding in New York State was something anybody would be interested in. And that they hadn't heard anything from the Yard yet was not a good sign either. If Anthony was fine, surely Agent Fornell would have called immediately to release them from the hell of uncertainty. If something _had _happened though, Jethro's friend for sure would have waited until he had all the facts before coming to tell him in person.

Shaking his head, Ducky clucked at himself. And wondered if he was driving himself that crazy with worry, what state must Jethro be in? "I'm sure Anthony is fine, Jethro," he heard himself reassuring the silent man.

Slowly, Jethro turned his head to look at him. Not able to stand looking into his eyes, Ducky looked away. No. He was far from sure indeed and should have known that Jethro wouldn't appreciate platitudes.

Before he could apologize though, the uncomfortable silence in the room was broken by young Mr Palmer bursting through the door. "McGee just called! Tony didn't blow up! The contrary actually. He disabled the bomb. They're on their way here now, should be here in another hour or so. Isn't that great? I was so worried about Tony, I mean, sure, usually Agent DiNozzo seems to beat all the odds but that's just it, at one point his luck has to run out, doesn't it? But not this time, and man, I'm so relieved about that."

"As am I, Mr Palmer, that certainly makes two of us," Ducky breathed in relief. That was excellent news indeed. But then he caught the grim expression on his friend's face and felt his euphoria wane.

"Why's he on his way here? And why didn't McGee or Fornell call here?" Jethro asked, his eyes narrowed.

Mr Palmer deflated. "Oh well, I'm not sure, McGee didn't say much more. And he called from a helicopter, so the connection wasn't all that great."

"Find. Out." Jethro's order had Mr Palmer fleeing from the room to do just that.

Ducky sighed, walking back to the chair beside the bed to sit down heavily, his tiredness suddenly getting the better of him. "He was just the messenger. Of good news too, no matter what you fear. You did not have to treat him so rudely after he relieved us of our worry."

"If DiNozzo was so fine, he'd have called himself," Jethro pointed out and Ducky noticed how his hands dug into his sheets, twisting them into a tight grip. "If it wasn't serious, they wouldn't be airlifting him here. And McGee wouldn't be riding with him instead of securing the scene if he weren't afraid to let him go alone."

Again, Ducky was tempted to look away, but this time, he held his friend's gaze. "Yes, well, you may be right. But maybe, you're overreacting. Anthony's place is here in DC. It makes perfectly sense that once his business in the Hamptons finished, he'd be on his way back here as fast as he can. And considering his past few days, I wouldn't be surprised at all if the stress and strain of those days finally caught up with him and he succumbed to his body's needs on the ride over now that the adrenaline's gone. In Timothy's place I would have been reluctant as well to let him out of my sight after all the worry that boy put me through. You see, all your doubts can be explained away perfectly well."

Jethro held his gaze a moment longer before he looked away. Ducky sighed. Yes, he had his doubts about his own words as well.

* * *

><p>"I'm fine."<p>

He was ignored, like he'd been the past few dozens times he assured that he was indeed fine. And he'd just about had it! When hands tried to prick or probe him again, he slapped them away, only for them to try yet again. He tried to sit up to prove to them that he _was_ fine; other hands pushed him down firmly. And let's not even talk about the lights being shone into his eyes or needles sucking blood out of his body.

God, he hated hospitals. And doctors. Sure, they saved lives, but when you weren't bleeding to death in front of them they were just a general pain in the ass.

So the next time he tried to sit up and the hand came again to push him back down, he grabbed it and twisted, hard. There was a yelp. That in itself didn't bother him much, he knew he hadn't inflicted any damage. But that yelp sounded awfully familiar. At last managing to sit up, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and carefully opened his eyes to slits to blink out of them. "Probie? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in New York."

There was a weird halo of light around Probie's head that was awfully bright. But eventually he made him out more clearly, giving him a glare as he rubbed at his wrists. "Well, yeah, but then some bonehead decided to go on a mission without back-up and get hurt while sitting on a bomb."

Any other time, Tony would have grinned at the wise-crack but he wasn't in the mood. "I'm fine," he repeated decisively, doing his best to ignore the marching band parading in his head and the black spots dancing before his eyes. Closing them, he gritted his teeth as he readied himself for his next step: standing up.

McGee snorted. "Sure, you're fine. Why don't you try that one again when you're not grey after losing most of your blood, don't have a cracked skull that rendered you unconscious for no less than six hours after a fight that left you black and blue, with three broken ribs, five cracked ones, a bruised liver and oh yeah, let's not forget your busted knee."

Huh. So that explained why he felt like yesterday's run over crap. "Okay, then I guess I'll need a pair of crutches to get out of here."

"You, my boy, are certainly not going anywhere."

Tony cringed at the slightly raised voice - and because his task of getting out of here just became a whole lot harder. "Ducky, I ..."

"Are injured. Not for the first time, as I seem to have to remind you, but for the fourth time. First, you get shot ..."

"Grazed," Tony corrected, then no, actually he really didn't need to be reminded. He remembered perfectly fine.

"... shot again ..."

"That doesn't count!" he protested. "The bullet didn't even touch me, thanks to the god of Kevlar."

" ... blown up, giving you your _first_ concussion ..."

"Barely one. Some of Gibbs' headslaps are stronger than that," he pointed out, not that it was any use. Ducky was happy to ignore any and all of his corrections.

" ... and now you've ended up with a hairline fracture, not to mention another concussion. You know as well as I do that this can't be taken lightly. You need to spend at least forty-eight hours resting under supervision." By now Ducky was so close he could feel his breath on his face. Strangely, it felt as if it was scalding his skin. "Here, where help, should you need it, is at hand immediately and we can do regular scans to monitor the swelling in your brain."

Tony sighed. Heck, he knew Ducky was right. Problem was, there were still a few things he had to do before he could allow his body to crash. It was bad enough that he'd already lost six hours, well more than that actually with all the probing he had to go through since waking up. But he knew Ducky would not see it his way. He was too much the doctor for that. "How's Gibbs?" he asked, hoping it would direct Ducky's hovering elsewhere.

"Worried sick about you, young man, which is absolutely detrimental to his recovery process."

So much for that plan. But if Gibbs was well enough to growl his displeasure then he was doing a lot better already. Thank God. Okay, plan B: ignoring Ducky. "Get me Fornell on the phone, McGee."

"Huh. Funny. Must have lost my cell."

Oh, for Heaven's sake! Again opening his eyes to slits, he glared past Ducky's displeased face at his junior agent, wordlessly holding out his hand. McGee glared right back at him, arms crossed over his chest. Too exhausted for games, Tony just held the glare. Kudos for the probie to try to defy him in the first place but hell, Tony had been fighting battles of will with Gibbs for almost twelve years now, and winning them if he had to as well. McGee didn't stand a chance and sure enough, not half a minute into their staring contest, the junior agent faltered, reaching for his phone, muttering a curse. One of these days, they'd have to work on that. If McGee ever wanted to become a SFA, he needed to be able to stand up to his lead agent. Not to mention as team lead to his director or even SecNav if necessary.

But for now Tony was just glad for small favors, he thought thankfully, closing his eyes again – not before seeing Ducky opening his mouth, no doubt to treat him with yet another lecture. "I need some painkillers, Ducky. Nothing too strong, I need a clear head for a few hours longer. But I do need something to take the edge off."

Silence. He almost grinned. Maybe he should remember this as a suitable way to shut Ducky up. But truth was, he wasn't kidding. As much as he hated taking drugs of any kind, not with his background and not with his body's sensibility to even weak drugs, sometimes you just didn't have any other choice and now was one of those times. He hurt. And he knew he was only running on fumes now, and that even those would soon evaporate. But that was okay, all he needed was a few hours and then he'd be perfectly happy to surrender to drug induced sleep. Though not here. He could rest better at home.

"Anthony ..."

Again he opened his eyes, this time to look at Ducky. "I'm leaving, Ducky. You can either help me not to over exert my body or let me go out there and have me find other ways to keep me going as long as I have to." His eyes slid to McGee. "Fornell?"

With a scowl, McGee shoved his phone into Tony's hand. "I put Fornell's number on speed dial nine."

He didn't nod, knowing better than that. Nor did he press on the call button yet, wanting to be left alone. Unfortunately, neither Ducky nor McGee seemed inclined to do him that favor anytime soon. Sighing, he opened his mouth to order them out of the room when someone else from behind them was faster than him. "Gentlemen. If I may ask you to give us the room, please?"

Recognizing the voice, Tony didn't bother to turn around. Instead, he cheered secretly as now, even McHover and Ducky had to actually listen and leave him alone.

Or not. "Sir, I understand your need to talk to Anthony, but I must insist that he rests. He's been through quite an ordeal and it's finally caught up to him."

"Ducky!" Tony hissed, enraged. The Scotsman made it sound as if he was some weak loser who couldn't handle a bit of stress. It was one thing to mother hen him but another altogether to ridicule him in front of his superior. "Sir, I'm fine," he assured, sending another glare towards Ducky and McGee, daring them to contradict him.

"That's highly debatable, according to your attending physicians. You haven't been very cooperative since you've woken up and from what my sources tell me, your definition of _fine_ highly differs from what normal or medical people consider it to be," SecDef said in a mild voice that had no problem conveying his thoughts on that matter. He rounded the hospital bed and stopped in front of Tony. "But surprising as it is that you can sit up at all, let alone be able to argue as you do, I gather you're indeed well enough for a debriefing."

"Yes, Sir."

SecDef nodded and looked expectantly at the other two men in the room still hovering close to Tony. This time, neither of them could withstand the powerful stare and with a last warning glance towards Tony they slunk out of the room. Finally. "I'm a bit out of the loop, Sir; I haven't had a chance to talk to Agent Fornell yet."

"That's alright, I've spoken to him." SecDef looked at him as if he was weighing something in his head. "Bishop's not talking, having lawyered up. Thanks to you though, that's not as bad as it could be, since we were able to secure his compound. I'm sure we'll find some of the answers we need there, or at the very least material with which we can go after him."

Tony made a face. "I hope so. Tom was trying to delete all the data. I'm not sure how much I salvaged from destruction."

"It's still more than we had yesterday. I take it you can thank this Tom character for your latest injuries?"

Carefully, Tony nodded before he gave SecDef a short report of what had happened once he went back in to stop the bomb. "He escaped, didn't he?" he asked resignedly as he came to an end. He'd had a feeling the road blocks and traffic surveillance would be fruitless but had hoped he'd been wrong.

"We haven't been able to apprehend him yet, no," confirmed SecDef. "Agent Fornell extended the BOLO to the whole nation and we also sent his picture around the world."

Good. But Tony doubted it would be so easy. His money was on Tom eluding them all. Fine. He wanted to be the one to get the bastard anyway. Sooner or later he'd find him. But not today. "How are the directors? Is Director Vance okay?" He doubted SecDef had come by to get questioned by him, but as long as he got answers, he saw no reason to stop asking them. It was eating at him, all the things he didn't know.

"He took a bullet to the leg and the wound got infected. They removed the bullet and are pumping him full of antibiotics. He should recover just fine, but it will take time. You'll have to fill in for him for a while longer," SecDef told him, fetching a chair to sit down in front of him. "This time though I expect you to actually remain where, as director, you ought to be: the office."

The threat behind those words was milder than he'd expected - but definitely there. Slowly, he shook his head. "With all due respect, Sir: I can't promise you that. I'm a field agent. If you want me to handle things at NCIS a while longer, fine, I can do that. But if I'm needed in the field, that's where I'll be." He thought about standing up to further make his point, then again, he didn't think throwing up on SecDef's shiny polished designer shoes would do him any good. Or maybe it would. Because frankly said, he wouldn't mind being demoted back to what he was, leaving the political charades to people who liked those games of intrigue. He straightened his back a bit, gritting his teeth as it sent flashes of pain through his upper body; but he remained ram-rod straight. "If you have a problem with that, I'm sure Deputy Director Craig would love to take my place. It _is_ his place after all," he pointed out.

SecDef smiled. They had had this conversation already when he first got dumped with Vance's job and he had a feeling, the argument hadn't changed since then. Damn. What good was a Deputy Director if he was always in some far away part of the world when he was needed?

Tony sighed. "And the others?" he asked, seeing that he wasn't going to get an answer to his desperate plea.

"As you know, Director Wayne Trummer didn't make it. AD Clark has survived his surgery, which is a small miracle, but he is far from out of the woods. He's hanging in there though." His face didn't tell him anything, there was something though in the man's voice that made Tony believe that he'd had more than only a working relationship with this men.

"I'm sorry," Tony said quietly.

SecDef, who had looked away briefly, lifted his eyes to study him for a long moment. "DiNozzo, they were shot long before any of us even knew they were in danger. According to the witnesses, Wayne died approximately an hour after their arrival on the compound. There was no way you or anyone else could have saved him. It's thanks to you that he was the only casualty and Vance and Clark have a chance at all. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Tony looked at the floor. Maybe. Or maybe, if he had investigated sooner, once he couldn't reach either Vance or Jarvis, they could have found them sooner. They'd never know for sure.

"And before you ask, Pearl Harbor is safe. As for the infected NCIS agents in LA: they are being treated with the antidote. Agent Dieks responded well to it, better than Agent Blye. It looks as if the virus hit her harder than her partner. She is fighting though, which gives us hope." When SecDef looked at him, Tony could see in his dark eyes the same rage he felt and he knew then and there that as long as this man was in charge, he'd have an ally in his fight and desire to bring down Balance to the last one of them for all of this.

Good. Because he had no intention of stopping before they paid for every drop of blood on their hands. "What about the targets in the rest of the world? Any word on that yet?"

The grim regret warned him that SecDef had no good news there. And he didn't. "In Rome, Mexico City, Nairobi, Mumbai, Bangkok and São Paulo Balance succeeded. We are already getting reports of first people getting sick."

Closing his eyes, Tony hung his head, some of what had kept him going leaving him. It took him a moment before he found his voice. "So we won the battle here but they may still win the war. Will there be a pandemic? What about the antidote? Has Crest already started with producing more so we can help those people?" He frowned. "And we need to tighten border control. Especially in the South. Despite everything, we can't let them bring the plague here when we fought so hard to keep it contained as it ought to be." It was easier to think about what had to be done than what it really all meant.

At least this time he knew with certainty that there was nothing more he could have done to prevent it. As soon as he'd suspected the US may not be the only country to be hit, he'd had the ball rolling in order to warn them. It was little solace but it helped knowing that.

SecDef made a face - which had the hairs on Tony's neck standing up. "Unfortunately, politics are now involved. The Justice Department balks at a deal with the man who could be going to be responsible for billions of dead people. While Crest won't cooperate without a deal. And the State Department plays for time and suggests we wait with giving the antidote away just in case we need it ourselves. Not to mention that they are already arguing about who gets it first when we finally do hand it out."

Tony could only stare at him, speechless, anger slowly building up. He wanted to believe SecDef was joking but he didn't strike him as a joker. Besides, sadly, he wasn't even that surprised. It sure wasn't the first time politics had crossed the line beyond any logical sense, not to speak of duty to humanity. "If this gets out, we're screwed," he finally said darkly.

SecDef nodded. "Not everyone thinks alike. We're working on convincing everyone that needs to be convinced. Luckily, the President is on our side in this matter."

That was at least something. Pressing his lips together, Tony fought off another wave of nausea. Not that there was anything left in his stomach to throw up thanks to his earlier bouts. It was all dry heaves and bile at this point, still, this was SecDef. He definitely wanted to keep it together in front of him. Which reminded him that SecDef hadn't said yet why he was here. As thankful he was for all the intel the man provided him with awfully willingly, he doubted he'd come here to put him up to date. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

Again he found himself under SecDef's contemplating stare. Carefully, Tony refrained from shifting nervously, keeping his face neutral. "Rest and get some sleep. Agent Fornell can handle things until you're well enough to return to your post. Which you are expected to do as soon as possible. The immediate threat might be over but there's still a lot to do."

Tony blinked, not having expected that. He frowned. "That can hardly be why you came down here, Sir."

SecDef allowed a smile. "No. I'm also here to check on my colleagues. Plus, there's a press conference in an hour and I prefer to have first hand information before I face any reporters."

A press conference. Staring at the wall behind SecDef, the wheels in Tony's head kicked into action. "Is this press conference covered by you, or are experts expected to attend as well to answer some questions?"

"Both," SecDef answered, narrowing his eyes at him but not asking any questions of his own out loud.

Tony pulled out his most charming, winning smile. "How would you feel about having your task force leader beside you when facing the hounds?"

* * *

><p>TBC!<p>

_Author's Note: So there is your answer – it's a two-parter after all. Had to be, because the rest of the chapter is as long as this first part is. So bad news, yeah, once again, I leave you hanging at this point. Good news though is that it won't be long, as the next part is finished already and even back as well from my wonderful beta, scousemuz1k, who you can thank for the smooth read – I sure am forever grateful. Still have to straighten it out, but that won't take forever. I hope you like this one – and what's still to come. Until now, you all have been absolutely wonderful with all the reviews, favorites and alerts and I can only hope I can do you all justice. Thank you! Enjoy and stay tuned for the very last chapter still to come._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"I can't believe SecDef was so irresponsible as to take Anthony with him! To help him escape the care he needs and for what? To let him attend a press conference!" Stopping in his angry pacing to throw up his arms, Ducky turned to glare at Gibbs, before he resumed stalking up and down in front of his bed. "A press conference! The worst place Anthony can be in in his condition right now is a press conference! The bright lights, the flashes of the cameras, the yelling and noise of a room filled with dozens of reporters, the heat of the spotlights ... Did that man not listen when we explained to him the dangers of submitting someone suffering from a cracked skull to such a tortuous environment?"

Until now, Gibbs had listened silently to his friend's enraged rant, busy grinding his own teeth and doing some quiet cursing of his own. Though the target of his cursing was less the powerful man than a very stubborn, reckless and did he mention stubborn senior field agent of his. Because he knew that not even a resolute, hard and generally unyielding man like SecDef seemed to be could withstand a DiNozzo who'd set his mind on going after the bone his bloodhound nose was sniffing out. All those who accused _Gibbs_ of not being able to let go of a hunt he was on would rather have him on the prowl than DiNozzo. While Gibbs may indeed live and breath the hunt, not letting anything stop him before he got his prey and due judgment was done, DiNozzo tended to become the Wild Hunt embodied. Or simply put, a force you couldn't withstand.

Few recognized the great danger that could be awoken within DiNozzo when provoked, and even those who knew about the potential hurricane that could be unleashed tended to forget about it until it blew them right out of DiNozzo's way.

Gibbs hadn't seen his agent yet, Tony had been too smart for that, but he'd heard enough to know that the evacuation alarms should have gone off a long time ago. And he also knew that when DiNozzo got like that, he stopped listening to anyone trying to reason with him, even if it was his own body screaming at him to at least take a break, pushing himself far beyond his own limits, going on until he either got his quarry or the hunt killed him.

It was why Gibbs, a short time after meeting DiNozzo and snatching him up to start building the best damn investigative team NCIS ever had seen, had practically started to preach Rules Ten and Eleven to him. Don't get personally involved, and when the case's done, walk away. They were good rules to live by for Gibbs, but for DiNozzo, they were his proverbial bulletproof vest and lifeline. And it was also why, when he noticed DiNozzo getting too close to a case, Gibbs watched him like a hawk, keeping him in line with head slaps and even more importantly, busy with tasks, preferably either to be conducted right under his nose or someplace far, far away from whatever threatened to penetrate that vest or cut the lifeline.

It was a full time job as he had quickly learned, but one he didn't mind. Heck, in the rare moments he was honest at least to himself, he would even admit that he embraced that job with both arms. It's what fathers do. And all in all, he'd done a good job over the years, slipping up only few times. Which would console him if those few times hadn't almost cost Tony's life. True, once or twice there hadn't been much he could have done, like when he lost his memory and along with that the meaning of those two rules to himself and DiNozzo. Or when SecNav and Vance conspired together to highjack his agent behind his back. But the other times, there was no one else to blame but himself and they haunted him still in his dreams.

This time, there really hadn't been any chance for him to haul DiNozzo back from the edge he was teetering on, and now he feared he could be too late. Because once DiNozzo had bitten down into that bone, there was no letting go anymore.

"It wasn't your fault, Ducky," he eventually assured his friend tiredly. "DiNozzo would have found a way to leave one way or another. At least he had the sense to take McGee with him. He'll watch his six," he said with absolute confidence, because that's what he had trained his agents to do and these last days showed how well they'd learned that lesson.

But Ducky huffed. "No sense at all! Timothy had to convince SecDef that it would be unwise for the director of NCIS, after all the threats against him and his assailant still on the loose, to go anywhere unprotected. And Anthony still had the foolish notion of arguing that very valid point; thankfully in vain as for once, SecDef showed at least some common sense and ordered Timothy onto Anthony's protection detail. Very much against Anthony's protests I might add. Foolish boy."

No arguments there. God, he hated being bound to this damn bed! If he could just get back to work, maybe he could still stop DiNozzo before it was too late. Give him a good slap and order him to drop the bone.

On the mute television, 'Breaking news' flashed over the screen and the current program was interrupted to switch live into the press room of the White House. The press secretary was currently speaking. But there on the side stood SecDef and beside him was his wayward Senior Field Agent. Hastily, Gibbs put the sound back on, his eyes glued to DiNozzo. He was wearing sunglasses and it looked as if someone had done their best to cover his bruises; but no make up in the world could mask that he looked like crap. Paler than Gibbs himself was, his posture rigid with his arms protectively in front of his rib cage and the fact that he was leaning against the wall in front of pretty much the whole nation told him that he probably needed it to keep himself upright. Ducky was right: DiNozzo had no business at all to be out of a hospital bed.

SecDef was called to the speaker's podium and the cameras zoomed in on him. He gave a watered down report of the events of the past seventy-two hours. Yes, a group called Ballance had orchestrated world wide attacks, including in the US, but thanks to the enormous efforts of the task force those had, for the most part, been successfully averted. Yes, here too those attacks involved biological malware, but those had been averted or contained. The government's sympathy went out to those countries not so lucky and security measures had already been taken in order to keep a possible pandemic spreading to the US; further international help had yet to be determined and would be addressed by the President, who was going to speak to the nation later that day.

Gibbs merely registered what was said, too impatient to get another look at his SFA. So far he couldn't see a reason why DiNozzo absolutely had to attend this press conference. Everything seemed to be covered by SecDef and to simply show his face there was truly no reason to drag himself from a hospital bed and much needed rest and pain medication. He'd barely gotten to the end of that thought when SecDef's next words caught his attention.

"For more information on the investigation on Balance, let me hand over to Anthony DiNozzo, temporary director of NCIS and leader of the task force that so successfully protected our country from these vicious attacks."

SecDef stood back and DiNozzo stepped to the front. Gibbs wasn't sure what he expected from a DiNozzo speaking straight to the nation from the White House. When DiNozzo simply answered the questions and gave some additional facts and information to Balance without any of his usual flourishes, no sarcasm, no jokes or showing any lively presence at all, it surprised him - and not. Because no matter what others might think of Tony's obvious ability to play the joker, thanks to his uphill upbringing, the years in military school and the incredible undercover talent that let him slip into any role he wanted, he _did_ know probably best of them all how to behave perfectly and acceptably. He just chose not to do so most of the time.

Most of all though, it worried him. Because either he was keeping it so low key because he was on the brink of passing out and in pain that would have weaker men screaming - or he was cooking something up for a big finish. Both options had Gibbs' gut churning as he waited for one or the other shoe to drop.

It was the cook up, that became clear when one of the reporters asked about any further suspects. DiNozzo straightened and took off his sunglasses to look directly into the cameras. "We are still investigating, but at the top of our list is a man going by the name of Tom Turner." The picture of a dark haired man with a deep tan and blue eyes flashed over the screen into a corner on the left where it stayed while the camera zeroed in on Tony, still looking straight to the camera, his green eyes piercing even through the screen, promising that every word he said was an absolute truth that couldn't be denied. It had Gibbs' hairs standing up on end. "If you see this man, do not approach or engage him in any way as he is very dangerous. You see him, call 911. If you know this man, please contact your nearest police station. He is wounded, so we caution any medical care facilities to be on the look-out for him." Tony paused and somehow it felt as if he looked directly into your soul. "Finding him is our top priority. We won't stop until he and his collaborators are under arrest and have to pay for the crimes they've committed against humanity. Balance has lost this battle and I'm confident we will also stop them altogether and win the war they brought into our homes." With that, he put back on his sunglasses and stepped away to let SecDef wrap up, who gave him a speculating look as he stepped forward.

"Am I wrong or did DiNutso just throw the gauntlet at Balance's feet?"

Too preoccupied to listen to the evacuation alarms ringing in his ears, Gibbs hadn't noticed anything going on around him and inwardly started. But damned if he'd let Fornell know that so he stubbornly managed to keep his surprise off his face, and didn't grace him with an answer to this rhetorical question.

Besides, Ducky was more than happy to answer for him. "I believe I couldn't have found a better way to describe Anthony's actions. What was that boy thinking?"

Neither Fornell nor Gibbs answered him. Gibbs would have loved to point out that DiNozzo hadn't been thinking at all - unfortunately he knew better. Not one word had been rash or carelessly weighed and picked. No, DiNozzo had known exactly what he was doing.

_Idiot_.

On the television, the press secretary was back on, but only to finish up, reminding everyone that the President would be speaking to the nation later on. Disgusted, Gibbs turned the whole thing off. None of the seasoned men in the room spoke and before it got uncomfortable, Ducky's phone rang. The medical examiner excused himself and left the room.

It was easier to say his next words looking out of the window than to say them straight to Fornell's face. "You need to watch him. They'll come after him."

"They'll need time to regroup at least."

He supposed it was meant to reassure him. In answer, Gibbs simply glared at Fornell. Shaking his head, Tobias shrugged. "I'll double his security detail. Not sure how much help that will be though. He sure isn't loving the idea and after just publicly inviting them to make him their number one target, I doubt he'll agree to keep low."

Before Gibbs could rip his ass for being deliberately dumb, Ducky came in, a wave of discontentment rolling before him into the room. "That was Timothy. As predicted and endlessly warned, this was too much for Anthony. He collapsed the second he was out of the camera's sight. I honestly am astounded it didn't happen long before that. They are bringing him back in. I'm going down to wait for him and this time, I'll make sure that no matter what that reckless young man insists on, he's going to get the care and rest he'll need!" Thus saying, Ducky surfed out on the same wave he'd ridden in.

More than anything, Gibbs wished he could go with him, cursing for the umpteenth time his bad luck to get shot now of all the times. He was still too weak to even get up, let alone leave this room.

"Maybe we can see if they'll put him in the bed next to you."

Gibbs' eyes snapped up to his old friend and this time, he _didn't_ manage to keep the surprise off his face. He may have been out of it, but not so much that he wasn't certain that he'd said nothing out loud. Fornell just smirked knowingly. Bastard. But then the FBI agent lost the smirk. "I'm sure all he needs is some rest, that hard head of his will have saved him once again. And frankly speaking, the way I see it, even confined to bed you're the only one who can persuade him to stand down for a bit. Maybe, you can even talk some sense into him. While he in turn can make sure _you_ stay put and keep your ass in bed where it's supposed to be." The smirk was back. "It's a win-win for all of us." Gibbs gave him a withering glare, not that that had ever stopped Fornell. "And on the bright side, while he's here, you can bark and growl at anyone who's coming by to thank him - and offer him a job."

That made Gibbs pause, narrowing his eyes at his old adversary. "Why?" Because Fornell hadn't been teasing this time and he wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't heard something.

Fornell leaned on Gibbs' bed rail with his elbows, folding his arms. "Our bosses are still reeling a bit from their kidnapping but not for much longer. When I checked in on Roland, he was asking an awful lot questions about DiNozzo already. And from what I gathered, Morrow and his new Gibbs are already talking about what they could offer DiNutso to convince him to leave your team. I figure it's only a matter of time before they start to knock on his door and lay offers at his feet, that would have most men salivating, even if they aren't after a career." He nodded towards the television. "And his act there just now for sure didn't help."

No, it certainly didn't. Gibbs grunted, feeling his own words coming back to haunt him. When he'd told Jenny, all those years ago, that when DiNozzo was ready to lead his own team, the whole world would know it, he sure hadn't anticipated just how accurate his prediction was going to be. But here they were, with DiNozzo just having spoken to billions of people inside and outside of the US from the freaking White House.

He wasn't sure if he should burst with pride or weep.

"Things are going to change, Jethro,' Fornell told him quietly, almost sounding sympathetic.

Worse was, Gibbs actually accepted the pity for once. Because he was right. They were right. Tony was ready. Had been for a long time now, as no one knew better than Gibbs. But now, after everything that had happened, he knew DiNozzo had finally realized it as well.

He'd always thought that when this day came, he couldn't be prouder. Which was true as well, but damn, most of all, it just scared the shit out of him.

* * *

><p>Two weeks. The docs had told him it would take at least two weeks until he could even think of going back to work. Three more days in the hospital, then doing physio and resting at home.<p>

He knew he should be grateful that he'd been lucky. Clark was still fighting for his life and even if he pulled through, however unlikely that was, it'd be months till he could go back to work - if ever. And Wayne ... Compared to that, two, three weeks of convalescence was nothing. He'd gotten off lucky, his family got off lucky.

Seeing Jackie and his kids had really brought home how close a call it had been. The kids had been scared and confused and while Jackie had put on a brave face, he'd seen the cracks, and the tears she'd shed once the kids had left the room had cut him deeply. In that respect, it was even good he'd have to spend some time at home. It would reassure them - and him - that he was safe and not going anywhere.

So yeah, he knew it was a blessing. But he was still the director of a federal service and these were desperate times. SecDev had briefed SecNav on what had been going on while they were kidnapped and SecNav had then briefed him. His so called Deputy Director Craig was caught up in Bangkok where he'd attended one of his meaningless conferences. Word was he survived the explosion and hadn't been exposed, but the government had closed off all borders for the time being. Craig wasn't coming back anytime soon.

And as he'd learned, not even Gibbs was available to hold down the fort at the moment as he himself was laying in a hospital bed on some other floor, looking at a recuperating time much longer than his after being shot as well. Vance was glad he'd get his best agent back eventually but right now he cared little about that, cursing too much the inconvenience that he had to pick now of all times to be shot. While Gibbs was a bureaucratic nightmare, he did have perfect tactical skills and was a natural leader, especially in a crisis like this, so the other team leaders and supervisors would be listening to him. And the office employees would be too scared of him to not try than do anything but their best, unappreciated by Gibbs as that may be.

He was needed at work, now more than ever. In such a situation, two weeks, or Heaven forbid, even longer, was unacceptable.

There was a knock at the door and a moment later, Shelley came in, looking nervous and guilty as hell all at the same time. In front of her, there was a big bouquet of flowers. "Sir? I hope I'm not disturbing you? I just wanted to come by to see if you're really alright." She put the vase on the table, picking and pulling at the arrangement as she did everything to avoid looking him into his eyes. "Director Vance, please believe me, I am _so_ sorry ..."

"Shelley, stop right there and look at me," he interrupted her, compelling her to finally lift her eyes towards him. They were full of regret and remorse. He sighed. "You feel guilty for what happened to me and the other men?"

A sob escaped her. "If I hadn't told them the number of your cell phone ..."

"They'd have found it another way," he told her, meaning every word. "They proved they were prepared to go to any length necessary to get what they wanted. From what they told me, they held guns to your kids' heads?"

She nodded. "But ..."

"No buts, Shelley. They threatened your kids. You did what you had to do. What any parent would have done. Including me," he reassured her, again by telling her nothing but the truth. It was his worst nightmare, someone going after his kids for information or revenge. It was why there were always agents watching over them, albeit as discreetly as possible. He held out his hand and slowly, she came closer to grasp it. Vance squeezed her hand. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. How are the two of them?"

She took a deep breath and let it out shakily, trying for a smile. "Fine. Well, still pretty rattled, the whole ordeal scared them a lot. But we're getting there."

He let go of her hand. "Good, that's good. I'm glad to hear it."

She nodded. "I met Jackie earlier on her way out. She told me you're getting out of here soon. I'm sure you'll be happy to get home."

He was glad for the opening and took it on the spot. "I will be. Less though when I think of all the work awaiting me when I get back to work. I'd like to avoid the mountains of paperwork I encountered the last time I was out of commission. So could you please bring me some of the files? We'll start with the most urgent ones. And we need to postpone some of the operations scheduled for upcoming days. Starting with Commander Yarding. Operation Bluestar was supposed to gone down two days ago and I know Yarding, he'll be pissed we missed the go, no matter what was happening here."

"Oh, sure, but you needn't worry about it," she said, this time with a real smile. "At the moment, there's nothing open that can't wait. In fact, up until yesterday, all paperwork was done. As well as operation Bluestar. It was a full success, going exactly as planned. Commander Yarding was very pleased."

Perplexed, Vance frowned deeply. Since becoming director he had never seen Yarding pleased with anything. He was a son of a bitch by nature. And how was it possible that all the paperwork was done? There always was paperwork. You could be done for the day, but that was about it. "How?"

Shelley shrugged. "Honestly? I have no idea when he found the time, probably by skipping sleep altogether."

"He?" Of course SecNav had told him who'd been in charge the past few days. And he'd seen the press conference from the White House. Still, he had trouble working his head around the fact that _DiNozzo_ had led his agency. And the task force. Successfully, as it seemed. Honestly, he still waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Director DiNozzo. Oh, sorry, Director, I mean Agent DiNozzo now again, I suppose."

He didn't comment on that, just nodded. "Well, that would be all for now."

Being the perfect assistant, she took her cue and stepped back immediately. "Of course. I hope you get well soon, Sir."

Once he was left alone, Vance stared at the flowers she had brought. DiNozzo. Of all his agents, why DiNozzo? He wasn't even a team leader. Why hadn't SecDef picked Keller or Bell? Both were exemplary team leaders and could have done a good enough job. Surely they were better suited than DiNozzo.

True, over the past few years, he'd come to see that DiNozzo was indeed a valuable agent and an asset to NCIS. But _director_? He just didn't see it. The Italian was too hot-tempered for such a diplomatic position, not to mention that he had the attention span of a five year old and no patience at all. Most of all though, like his mentor Gibbs, DiNozzo lived for the thrill of the field and he couldn't see him doing his job without going up the wall within days.

So yeah, he had a very hard time believing that DiNozzo of all people had stepped up to the plate when necessary to take his place at the head of NCIS. Not just that, if one could believe the reports he'd gotten so far, he had actually excelled at it.

Again, there was a knock and unnerved, Vance was ready to send them away, getting tired and needing some time to think. Unfortunately, that option was no longer open to him once the door revealed his next visitors. One didn't send away SecNav and SecDef. Schooling his features, he nodded at them, waiting for them to speak first. More or less; he could think what this was about.

"Leon. You look a lot better," Jarvis greeted him. "Have you met SecDef yet?"

"Briefly, yes. Good to see you again, Sir," Vance answered, holding out his hand.

"You too. I wish it were under better circumstances." The hand shake was firm and strong, just like the man himself. "Though I'm glad to see you alive and relatively well. For a while, we weren't so sure about that."

"I gathered. A lot happened, it seems."

SecDef nodded. "Indeed it did. And I can assure you, it's not over yet. In fact, this is only the beginning. We may have stopped Balance this time but they are still out there, intend on remodeling the world as we know it." He smiled, his eyes narrowing at him. "But that's hardly foremost in your thoughts at the moment. I bet what you're really thinking is what the hell did I do to your agency, putting a field agent ahead of all your chosen team leaders or supervisory agents."

Vance barely managed to keep the surprise off his face. He remembered that this was a man that needed to be watched out for. "The thought has crossed my mind," he admitted, glancing at Jarvis, who minutely shook his head. No, he had no answers yet either.

SecDef's smile deepened. "I understand. I would be pissed as well if someone I barely knew came and made decisions about my agency and my people without consulting me first."

Vance would have felt a lot better if he'd known what SecDef was aiming for. As it was, he smiled back. "The circumstances were extraordinary. Besides, you had every right to act in what way you thought best fitted the said circumstances."

"How very diplomatic of you. I was told you excel at this game," SecDef chuckled, but Vance felt his inner alarm going off. Just in time, as suddenly, all amusement left SecDef. "I took the liberty of taking a look at Agent DiNozzo's file. It's not up to me to make or even question the personnel choices you make. But I did ask myself why a man of DiNozzo's caliber, talents and experience is still merely a field agent. And I know that had it been up to me, DiNozzo would have made team leader a long time ago. If not something more than that." He shook his head. "I still can't make any decisions for you. Fortunately though, building the task force to bring down Balance is up to me. So I caution you that DiNozzo won't have much time at his hands in the near future as he'll be busy heading that task force. And because we're friends, I'm also giving you a head's up that I have every intention of offering DiNozzo a permanent - leading - position in any agency of mine he'd like to work in." He looked from Vance to Jarvis, giving each of them a pointed look. "Well, I'm expected back in the White House and have to leave you now. I suggest you think about my words. Gentlemen."

Before he walked out of the door, he stopped one more time, giving them both a look that had Vance suddenly feel inferior. "One more thing. DiNozzo is expected back at the White House as soon as this settled down a bit. The President is going to award him with the Public Safety Officer Medal of Valor."

He left. Slowly, Vance looked at Jarvis. Neither of them could think of anything to say. The Medal of Valor was for law enforcement what the Medal of Honor was for the military, the highest acknowledgment of their extraordinairy actions in the line of duty an officer of the law could get, awarded by the President of the United States himself. And now DiNozzo was to receive one, an agent he had apparently underestimated and underappreciated by a huge amount.

Had he really been that wrong?

* * *

><p>DiNozzo hadn't moved a muscle since being wheeled in and that included his eyelids. Ducky had reassured him that it was perfectly normal, given his injuries and the level of his exhaustion, that it was merely Tony's body's way to get the rest it needed.<p>

Gibbs trusted no one but perhaps DiNozzo more than he did his old friend, especially about anything medical. But as long as Tony lay there so unmoving and quiet, not driving him crazy with questions, movie quotes and general babble, Gibbs couldn't get his gut to relax and it stopped him from getting much needed sleep himself.

After having hovered and mother-henned over the both of them, Gibbs had finally convinced his old friend to go home and get some proper rest. It had been long days for all of them, but Ducky wasn't getting any younger. Abby and McGee he'd sent home as well. It had been a harder fight with them, especially with McGee, but the fact that two guards stood directly in front of their door, plus four more at the two floor exits and a team outside convinced him finally that no one was getting to them and they were as safe as they could be in a hospital.

Ziva too had come by and the way she had been drawn to DiNozzo's bedside, barely able to look away from his still figure but stopping herself from actually touching him told him more than he wanted to know about what he had sensed between the two of them when he'd woken up to her sitting by his bedside. She hadn't stayed long, excusing herself relatively quickly, but his spidey-sense, as Abby insisted on calling it, told him that she was still close, watching over them, guarding them. Or rather DiNozzo.

This was going to cause problems within the team. Damn fraternization. That was why there was Rule Twelve – to avoid problems just like that.

Of course, from what Fornell had told him, maybe they wouldn't get the chance to disrupt the team's inner workings. If DiNozzo left the team ...

Glancing over to the other bed, he saw that Tony still hadn't moved. Shaking his head, Gibbs turned it away again and closed his eyes, willing himself into sleep.

It worked, but not for long as he was jerked awake when he felt someone coming into the room. His hand slipped under the cover, gripping the gun Tony had slipped him on his first and only visit. It seemed impossible that a foe had found a way to sneak past all the security guards and Ziva, wherever she had taken up post, but his experience had taught him to expect the unexpected. Especially whenever DiNozzo was involved. He released the safety and pointed the gun towards the door, his finger on the trigger. As long as he was on watch, no one was getting to his agent.

But then he recognized the intruder and he relaxed his finger, switching the safety back on. He may still be a foe, you never knew with him, but at least he presented no mortal danger to his SFA. And it explained why the guards had let him pass. "Shouldn't you be resting in your own hospital bed, Leon?"

Vance rolled closer, the wheels of his wheelchair squeaking a bit. They both shot glances over to the other bed. No change there. While Gibbs sighed inwardly, his gut twisting at the unnatural unresponsiveness of his usually always alert second, he noticed that Vance's gaze on Tony's still form lingered. As usual, his expression gave little away of his thoughts, but he thought he saw some disbelieving, begrudging resignation, maybe even acceptance.

Good. It was about damn time. Gibbs knew Vance had come to appreciate Tony's many values more over the past years, but he also knew that he never really got it. Looked as though he was getting there now at last.

"How is he?"

"Still unresponsive since SecDef dragged him in front of a press conference with a cracked skull," he ground out, wanting it to be clear what he thought of that move.

Finally, Vance turned his chair to fully face him. "It was DiNozzo's own suggestion. From what I heard, he was quite adamant about it."

"Maybe. SecDef should still have said no. In fact, he shouldn't have hinted at the press conference at all in front of DiNozzo," Gibbs pointed out. He'd met SecDef. Not since the other man moved up through the ranks but way back when he had still been a gunny and SecDef a colonel. He'd been a good soldier and a good CO, one he actually gladly and respectfully addressed as Sir - but he also had been a manipulative son of a bitch when he had wanted things done and a master at getting other people to propose something he wanted and make them think it had actually been their own idea. He was also very shrewd at reading people. Tony surely had his own goals that he pursued but he was helped along by SecDef.

Vance didn't comment. Guess he knew SecDef enough for that as well. Instead, his gaze was drawn to Tony again. When he looked back at Gibbs, all there were were questions. "Is he really that good?"

Despite everything, Gibbs was tempted to laugh out loud. Only DiNozzo could cause such bafflement in a person. His gaze too flickered over to his partner. But this wasn't really a time to laugh or belittle Tony's achievement of the past few days. So he answered simply, but with absolute honesty. "Yeah."

A muscle in Vance's neck pulsed but otherwise there was no sign of a reaction to his confirmation. For a long time, they were silent, neither of them speaking. At last, Vance nodded and started to push his chair backwards. "Things are going to change, Gibbs. Better get used to it," he told him quietly before turning his chair and rolling out of the room without looking back.

Gibbs sighed. This was the second time someone had told him the same words today. It was common knowledge that he didn't like change, he guessed that was why everyone seemed to want to ease him into the upcoming one. They needn't bother. This was his team, his agent. He may be stuck in this bed at the moment but he had picked out and recruited DiNozzo all those years back in Baltimore, had trained and formed him ever since. Not that Tony had needed much training, really. At least not where investigative work was concerned. When they'd met, Tony had been a seasoned cop already with almost as many years in law enforcement under his belt as he himself had.

No, in the field, they had been equals from the get go. Partners.

Yeah, he'd recruited a detective as a probie but he'd gotten a partner - and a son. Who was ready to leave the nest, as he well knew.

Again his eyes followed his thoughts to seek out the object of them.

The question was rather if Gibbs was ready to give that last little push. It seemed as if that decision had already been made for him; then again, nothing was set in stone yet. Especially if both he and Tony refused to budge. He just wasn't sure anymore what was best – for the team but most importantly for Tony. Up until now, Tony had stayed and Gibbs hadn't pushed because professionally, Tony may have been ready to soar on his own, but emotionally he hadn't been there yet. With the loveless childhood he had had and the poor excuse of a practically non-existent family, Tony had needed the years nested within their little family-like team. And to be honest, so had Gibbs, needing Tony close by to let him bit by bit crack open his sealed heart; to re-teach him the love of a father again. Now, they were both there, each confident in what he felt and meant in the other's life.

Or so he thought. Time to find out. "'Bout time you woke up."

For a beat, nothing happened. Then, Tony turned his head and offered him a cheeky grin. "Don't know why I still try. Never could fool you, Boss."

"You heard what Vance had to say." It was a statement rather than a question. He knew Tony had woken up the moment Vance had started to speak.

"And you," he confirmed easily, glancing at him. "Just for the record, it was all my idea. SecDef had nothing to do with me being at that press conference."

Maybe. But he'd said what he thought on that matter and with time, DiNozzo would come to his own conclusions. This was not what they needed to talk about though and he trusted that Tony knew it too.

"And I disagree. Things don't have to change," Tony said, proving he was once again reading his thoughts. His voice was firm, especially for just waking up. But the fact that he had looked away as he was saying that told Gibbs volumes.

So shove it was. "It was always my intention for you to take over once I got too old for this job."

Tony looked back at him. "I know." He frowned. "You're not planning to try that again, are you? Because no way are you ready to retire, Boss."

"Exactly," Gibbs smiled, before turning serious again. "I learned my lesson. Unless something happens, I've still got some years left in me." Tony nodded as if that was no question for him. It probably wasn't. But apparently it also meant that his loyalty blinded him to what that meant for him. It didn't surprise Gibbs but it sure exasperated him. "Which is why you need to be smart about this." Tony's face closed off again and he was about to turn his head away once more. "You _need_ your own team, Tony. Don't think I haven't seen you struggle to hold back lately more and more when instinct tells you to order something done or you disagree with my approach on a case. And let's not even talk about how you disobeyed a direct order and went back in when I told you - very clearly - not to. That was crossing a line you wouldn't even have thought about crossing a few years back and you know that."

"Boss ..." Tony started to protest, shifting uncomfortably and it had nothing to do with him being in pain.

Gibbs held up a hand. "More than that, you're getting bored. Restless. Don't think I don't know about you taking on cold cases from other teams whenever you can. Or your little chats in MTAC with various agents afloat, helping them with their investigations." Guilt flashed over Tony's face, but Gibbs shook his head. "Don't worry. You did good. As always. I never said anything because it never interfered with your designated work - and because I wasn't ready to have this conversation. Still not." He wasn't. Probably never would be. It wasn't just about losing the SFA other team leaders could only dream about or even about losing a partner who's watched his six for almost a dozen years now. Most of all, it was that he wasn't ready to let him too far out of his sight. Tony could watch his own back, of course, but that mattered little to Gibbs. That knowledge merely kept him sane. As much trouble as that boy attracted, intentionally or not, meant he needed all the backup he could get.

"Then I don't see why we need to talk about this now. I got enough job offers before this. I'll get more, not that I need them. I know my place."

Gibbs frowned, narrowing his eyes at his SFA. No, this wasn't a ruse - which made it all the more tragic that Tony indeed had no idea where his _place_ was. "Obviously you don't or I'd have had your resignation to move on to a new team as team leader years ago. And as selfishly glad I am for that - I can't let you hold yourself back this much any longer."

With a frown, Tony struggled to sit up straighter to glare at him more directly. "Wait, are you kicking me off the team?"

Maybe it was for the best they were both stuck in hospital beds right now. At least it stopped them both from running away. As it was, his hand itched to slap some sense into the stubborn guy. How could someone so smart be so stupidly oblivious? "Think again."

Tony's green eyes flashed. "So what's the deal? You'll just treat me like crap until I crack?Newsflash, if you haven't driven me away yet, I doubt you'll get it done now."

Yep, definitely good, they couldn't storm off. Clenching his jaw, Gibbs forced himself to calm down. It was harder than it should have been. It always was with DiNozzo. "I'm just suggesting that you seize the moment and grab at the incredible chances you're offered here. Something like this most likely will never come along again."

"Maybe I don't care. Maybe I'm perfectly happy to wait until it's time for me to take over our team," Tony countered, still being stubborn but having calmed down a bit as well. "Contrary to obviously common believe, they may offer me jobs but no one can force me to say yes."

"True. But you _do_ care. You _are_ tempted to move on, no matter what you say now - and you should be. All I'm telling you is that for once, don't think about me or the team. Just think about what _you_ want and what would make _you_ happy. Then make your decision. That's all I'm asking and whatever your decision will be, it's enough for me. You know I'll always have your six, if you're on my team or not, if you work for NCIS or not."

Watching him closely for a reaction, Gibbs didn't miss the joy and gratitude flaring up for a moment in Tony's eyes. As usual though, his answer was only half serious. "Even if I go and work for Toby?"

As he expected of him, Gibbs only glared. Tony knew perfectly well that managing to hire him when Fornell had failed to do so was the cornerstone of his contentment. Then again, if Tony wanted to leave NCIS, Gibbs would feel best if he actually did go work with Fornell. At least his old friend could be trusted to properly watch his back and appreciate his many talents. Plus it would be easier for Gibbs to keep tabs on him.

Problem was, Tony was asking about more than that. He sighed. "Now's your time, Tony. Decide what you want then go talk to Vance and SecNav or SecDef. They'll make it possible." He had little doubt about that. Should they try to be difficult about it, he could still help them along a bit.

"Just like that?" Tony asked, incredulous.

Gibbs nodded, knowing for once he'd have to say it very clearly, leaving no doubt. "You earned it."

Looking away, Tony didn't answer and silence fell over the room. Gibbs let him brood, having said his piece. He thought he'd managed to get it through his thick head, but with DiNozzo, you never knew.

It was almost an hour later, as Gibbs finally almost fell asleep, when Tony spoke again, quietly. "I don't want to leave NCIS. Or the Navy Yard. It took me years to find a place - and people - to call home and I don't want to have to start over. But that doesn't leave me with many choices."

On the outside, Gibbs nodded calmly. Inwardly, he let out a big sigh of relief. Good, that was good. He could work with that. "If you could pick whatever you want, what would you suggest?" Because no way had DiNozzo needed an hour to merely find out he wanted to stay where he was.

Sure enough, Tony shifted restlessly, playing with his bed covers until he faced him again, hesitatingly coming forth with what he'd been brooding over. "I've been thinking about all the overtime we put in, all the cases we take on despite them coming in when we're not on rotation. It's getting too much. Neither of us have anything left that's worthy to be called a private life. McGee hasn't written in ages and even the hours he spends gaming have gone down by half. Ziva hardly sees anyone outside work anymore, not finding the time to do any normal stuff, even if it's important to her. The last book she read must have been six months ago. You haven't worked on building something bigger than a chair in years. And I barely remember what a football field or basketball court look like, not to mention the dozen DVDs sitting at home for months that I haven't had time to watch yet. Boss, we can't go on like that. Sooner rather than later one of us is bound to break or make a mistake that will cost us or a victim dearly."

His first reaction was defensive, having no trouble hearing the criticism within those words. Digesting it, he shrugged instead. "So what have you in mind?" he asked again, curious now.

"I think the problem is that we're really the only MCRT on rotation. You don't trust the other teams enough to do the job as thoroughly as you know we'd work it. I don't blame you, I may have a bit more faith in them than you, but even I have to admit that there have been cases I cringe to think of one of the other teams having handled. And then there are all the cases where we really could have used some more hands on deck, but again we wouldn't let anyone in because we didn't trust them or we couldn't take the time to work them in."

Easily following his second's thoughts, Gibbs figured out his proposal way before Tony wound up to say it out loud. "With a second MCRT on rotation though, led by you, that would all change. You I can trust to do things right. You I could let join an investigation of mine, even if it's a sensitive one."

Looking relieved, Tony nodded. "And vice versa." He bit his lip, slowly shaking his head. "I believe a second MCRT would benefit not only us but all of NCIS. But I've also seen our budget, there's no money for another team. And the only opening we have is Ida Lopez' position and Mark earned that one. I won't take that away from him."

"Not the right one for you either," Gibbs agreed, frowning. Thinking. He had no instant solution. On the other hand, he also knew that money was usually found if it was needed or important enough. He thought Vance and Jarvis finally realized Tony's value, but enough to make the impossible possible? "Talk with the director and SecNav."

"Right and they'll create a new team for which we don't have the money just to please me," Tony drawled, his voice again dripping with sarcasm.

Gibbs lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. Maybe, this was perfect. Seeing them almost trip over their own feet in order to keep him perhaps would finally show DiNozzo his _place_. And if they weren't prepared to bend themselves backwards, well, he still had some cards up his sleeve. Not that he was too worried it'd come to that. So that technicality out of the way, they needed to concentrate on the team Tony was going to build. First and most important, he'd need a second who would have his six but could also pull his own weight or step in if necessary. Gibbs had a good idea who that could be. The trick now would be to get Tony to agree to it and not see it as him gutting out his team. "If you could take anyone from our team with you, who'd you pick?"

Tony's eyes flickered over to him, frowning. "Boss, I'd never ..."

"Who, DiNozzo?" Gibbs interrupted his protests, sharply.

His jaw jumped, but DiNozzo answered, shortly, without hesitation. "McGee."

Gibbs nodded, having expected that answer. But because he was curious anyway, he had to ask. "Ziva?"

Again, the answer was immediate and absolute. "No."

It was enough to satisfy his curiosity and he really didn't want to know more. "You leaving rips apart the team either way," he told Tony instead. Seeing the guilt building up in those green depths, he hurried on. "It was bound to happen one day. I prefer it this way." He could see his words made them both think back to the cruel way they lost their last teammate. But as hard as losing Kate was - she wasn't the rock and salt of the team. The team could survive her loss. Not Tony's though. Frankly said, Tony taking McGee along would make things easier, making the loss less overwhelming, less gaping. It would let him look at it as building a new team not replacing someone who couldn't be replaced. But he knew that argument would never work with Tony. No, for that he'd need to appeal to his innate need to protect and help his junior agents. "Most importantly though, both McGee and Ziva have been working for years as junior agents now. Just like you, they're ready for more. You taking McGee with you gives them both the chance for a promotion to senior field agent."

Tony listened to him, clearly not trusting him entirely. But he said nothing, which Gibbs took as a good sign. "We don't need to make any decisions now. Think about it. Once it's time, we can always let McGee choose whose SFA he prefers to be."

"Okay," Tony agreed quickly, relieved. No doubt he was in for a surprise. A few actually. But McGee choosing him instead of Gibbs, which after having had to fight that hard with him to convince him that his SFA was safe and he could go home Gibbs was sure he was going to do, might be the biggest of them all. It made sense though. It had been DiNozzo who'd first discovered McGee and pushed to bring him into the team, who'd trained him the most, who'd always been there for the younger man, having his back, even when he had teased him mercilessly, and you surely never forgot the guy who helped you through your first kill.

Suddenly, Tony grinned, mischievously. "If all this really happens - and that's a big if - you might just lose the solving rate record to me."

Gibbs lifted the other corner of his mouth too. True, he might lose it - and he wouldn't be prouder. Didn't mean he'd roll over and not fight. "Try it."

His grin deepening, Tony looked at him for a long time. Gibbs held it. For all the words Tony spoke in a day, the easiest and most important conversations between them often happened without anything being said. This night, there had been a lot of words. Words, that needed to be said. But like so often, the most important ones between them weren't spoken out loud. His smile softening, Tony nodded slowly. "You're on."

The End – for now?

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Okay, let me tell you a little story: Once upon a time, there had been this NCIS fan and fanfiction author, let's call her Mooncat (wink). She had this vision about a story where Tony was the undeniable hero (check), having to step in as leader because everyone above him had vanished or something (check) and show everyone just what he was capable of (check). And of course, there had to be a very heroic and selfless act of Tony at the peak of it, much in the way of Spock at the end of the second Star Trek movie (check. Though I dialed it down. I thought he'd go into a plague infected room to disable a bomb and save everyone. You see, really exactly like Spock – and btw, yeah, totally Treckie here! But it didn't fit the story anymore when I came to that scene and it just would have been too much. Still I mention it here so crazy, Tony-hero-star-eyed people like me can share it and think about it in their next dream. Enjoy!). Plus, there was this tiny moment when Vance would return and unlike the last time when Gibbs managed NCIS, his desk would be clear, not a single file left (check, more or less, had to move it to the hospital, but now you know how that will play when he actually returns.). <em>

_Also, she envisioned a press conference where Tony spoke to the whole world (check), making Gibbs think back to his comment to Jen after he came back from Mexico (because I agree, the whole world would know – and boy, had he been right!) which led to him and Tony having a heart-to-heart about it being time for Tony to move on (which was hard, because I obviously love the team as it is and breaking it up broke my heart. Also, I hate the stories where they aren't together anymore, exactly because of that. Now look here what I did. But it was the logical conclusion to the events in this story and I wanted to show that it could happen in a friendly way, without anyone having to die and each of them still having each other's sixes. Still working alongside, but in a different way that allowed Tony to step out of Gibbs' shadow – or be pushed rather. He's too loyal to do it without a push and that push could come from no one else but Gibbs). _

_There had been a few other visions, but basically, that was it. Now, a year later I finally reached the point where I always wanted to go. And the damn chapter, before I broke it up, had 36 (!) pages. When I wrote the last line I wanted to continue right on with the Epilogue but found myself wordless, a sense of accomplishment fulfilling me. And I thought, no, that's the perfect line to end it, worked here and there a few things in and decided the two last visions I just couldn't work into this monster of a chapter had to be stored away for later use in another story – or go to the heaven of never written scenes like so many others before them. _

_Sorry for this long note, but I'm coming to the point of it now: _and that would be you guys and the wonderful and mighty power of reviews._ When my amazing beta, __scousemuz1k (again, I can't thank you enough for the superb work you've done with this story!), warned me that you guys won't be happy with the open end, I told her I know – but this baby was finished, come what may. No more. I still think so. Regretting the missing scenes, but it doesn't change that this story has come to its end._

_But then I posted the first part and saw all your wonderful reviews that had me glowing with pride – and read your expectations for the last chapter firsthand. A lot was covered as demanded, I think – but funnily, some of the things you expected and I knew were missing, corresponded exactly with the epilogue I originally planned to do. So long story short, yes, this is the last chapter. But contrary to what I claimed, no, this is not the last post because I went and written the epilogue anyway and now I truly am at piece and feel like now, the story truly is finished. _

_So I hope you enjoyed this little (cough) story as much as I did and loved its last chapter. If not, I can only hope the still coming epilogue will satisfy you. So now, really for the last time, I stop here and say until – hopefully – next time. _


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_(Two months later)_

"All set?"

Startled, Tony turned around to see that Vance had snuck up on him and was standing right behind him. Damn it. He usually wasn't so unaware of his surroundings. But he covered it by nodding calmly. "Yes, Sir. Your new MCRT is ready to get rolling as of tomorrow morning."

Vance looked around the bullpen and Tony followed his glance, still mostly in awe but also damn proud about how the preparations for his new team had come together so quickly. As suggested by Gibbs, when Vance and SecNav had approached him to offer him the free leader spot on Ida Lopez' team, he had politely refused and waited to see their reaction. Much to his surprise, instead of telling him that Ida's position was all they could offer him and if that wasn't enough, well, tant pis as the French said, SecNav asked him what it'd take to keep him with NCIS. So he'd laid out his thoughts about NCIS needing a second MCRT, without much hope. But not only had they listened, no, one long glance between SecNav and Vance and then SecNav had said "Good idea." and just like that, NCIS had gotten an additional MCRT and he a carte blanche to form his very own team.

If there hadn't been some quid pro quo included, he'd have thought this was a joke. Or a dream. One of the cons was SecDef's desire to keep him as leader of the task force against Balance. He hadn't fought much against that. Once he started something he wanted to see it through to the end and he and Balance, especially Tommyboy, still had some unfinished business to close. Namely the complete destruction of Balance and Tommyboy and his Circle of Five behind bars. Or dead. He didn't care, as long as he was the one to close the handcuffs or pull the trigger, at least with Tom.

No one hurt his people and got away with it.

His only condition for SecDef had been that he'd get to work in the field alongside heading the task force. He knew he wouldn't have much time for working regular cases, but he needed the diversion and action to save him from the effects of having mountains of paperwork and days spent in meetings, MTAC or one office or another. It was going to be hell on his hours and sleep, but he hoped he could handle it. Though the sooner his task force finished Balance the better.

The second big con though was another matter altogether. He'd refused it flat, prepared to walk away. Only Gibbs kicking his ass and more or less blackmailing him pushed him to accept the stipulation for him getting his own team and free choosing of his agents. He still thought it was too high a price and bound to lead to tensions or even downright conflict between him and the other teamleaders or him and Vance. Worse of all, it threatened to cause friction between him and Gibbs.

It was already strange enough to not be a member of Gibbs' team anymore, he really didn't want even more things to come between them. Gibbs of course hadn't been worried. As it was, his soon-to-be-former - damn, how long was it going to take to get used to that thought? - boss had been awfully at ease with all the changes happening to his team. It kind of worried him. Gibbs just wasn't the laid back type, but ever since their talk in the hospital room he'd been just that. At least with him. Fornell and Ducky didn't worry though that it was because the bullets had done more damage than anticipated. According to them, as he no longer worked for Gibbs anymore but alongside him as a fellow team leader and friend, it was perfectly normal and he'd better get used to it.

He didn't trust it, still waiting for the second b to come back around to headslap him. It was bound to happen after all, wasn't it? Once they were both back in the saddle, working cases, things had got to go back to normal, right?

He guessed he'd find out soon enough. Gibbs had been on medical leave for six of the prescribed ten weeks, having come back to desk duty two weeks ago. Ducky had cleared him to go back to fieldwork as of tomorrow.

His own team was taking up its work tomorrow as well. It was crazy to think that within eight weeks, they'd assembled a team out of nothing, a team that was going to thrive if he had any say in that and oh, look, he had! They were going to steal that closure record right out from under Gibbs' nose. Not this year, not with him having to spend so much time on the task force, but in a year or two, it was going to be his.

So here they were, in his brand new bullpen. He hadn't had to move far. Also requested by him and Gibbs and granted, his team could set up where EJ's had been - right alongside his old team. And he'd decided to mirror Gibbs' desk configuration, as a further symbolic sign that while they for sure would engage in some harsh but friendly competition, they were no competition to each other, but in fact backing up and complementing each other. It didn't matter if you got Team Gibbs or Team DiNozzo, as they'd both work with the same thorough dedication, giving the case and the victims their everything. It was probably crazy to put so much meaning in a desk arrangement, but it still felt right when he moved his stuff to his new desk, right beside Gibbs'. It gave him a great view of what came in from the front. Admittedly, it left his back open. But that was okay. Gibbs would have it, even with that new halfway wall between them. And McGee had chosen the desk right across from him, having his back as well.

McGee. The biggest surprise of it all had been when Tim had decided to join his team as SFA instead of Gibbs'. He'd been so sure Tim would pick Gibbs. Why shouldn't he? Gibbs was NCIS best agent and a legend, inspiring them all - as long as you didn't have to work for him. Once you did, it was proved whether you were just a blender or a true follower. McGee had passed the tests and ordeals with flying colors and brought the worship of the Legend Gibbs to a whole new level by writing his tales of one Agent LJ Tibbs. But he'd still chosen to join his new team, seemingly totally unsurprised by the news they had for him. Without having to even think about it either. Shortly after Gibbs had been released from the hospital and he'd gotten the green light to start assembling his team, when he and Gibbs had invited McGee for a steak and beer over to Gibbs' home, to lay it out to Tim and let him decide, McGee had only looked between them for a moment before he'd addressed Gibbs.

_"Boss, it's been such an honor to be part of your team and learn so much from you. But Tony's my partner and I want to join his team."_

And that had been that. He still had a hard time believing it, but he sure was happy as you couldn't get a better man as SFA than Tim. Well, at least now that he wasn't available anymore. Together, they had decided on the two agents to complete their team. After all, Tim had been out in the field with all the new probies and while he had some ideas after reading and re-reading their files and their report on their mission in New York, he wanted to hear Tim's opinion just like Gibbs had relied on his thoughts when they'd had to add new team members. To his amusement, McGee had numbered his probies and it had kind of stuck with him too. They had both immediately agreed on Probie 4, the widowed ex-marine with twin boys at home. He had wanted en ex-soldier on the team who could relate with first-hand experience of the lives their suspects and victims led, and an explosives expert was always good to have at hand, especially if Balance planned to keep planting bombs. Also, his responsibilities at home would hopefully let Tony keep in mind that there existed a world outside work and his team members had a right to have time to actually enjoy a private life, as had he.

And Tim had wanted the dry humor and calmness he brought to the team, which they would sure need to balance out the fiery and lively Probie 3. She hadn't been on his list, all the lawyer rules and the disaster with his last probie from legal making him give her no real consideration. But Tim had insisted that Natalia Lupo, daughter of a Russian ballet dancer and Cuban exile rebel was nothing like a normal lawyer, good at following orders and listening, but definitely bringing some fire and action to the team. That, combined with her language and combat skills had convinced him to give her a shot. Besides, it couldn't hurt to have someone on the team who spoke the language of lawyers, as he had noticed when Michelle had been on the team. It simplified dealing with the legal department and he'd gotten his warrants faster. And again, she had majored in international law and with her multi-national background she could be of great help in the fight against Balance.

Gibbs had decided on trying it out with Probie 2, the ex-Metro-cop and complete opposite of him. Which was why it might just work. He didn't know him well, never having worked a case with him, but he'd worked and was friends with some of his co-workers and they had assured him that while he had no sense of humor at all, Matt Feller had been a good cop, dedicated to his work. Time would tell. Ned Dorneget had finally made the last spot on Gibbs' team and Tony was sure he'd make it just fine, though Gibbs and Ziva would have their hands full to show him the ropes and toughen him up to help him become the agent they all knew he could be. It was worth it. McGee too had been a handful to train but here he was, his partner and second.

The A-Team and the Fantastic Four, ready to rock 'n roll and kick some serious ass.

"We'll see."

Ripped out of his thoughts, Tony looked up with a blink. Right. The sneaking director - his boss now, he reminded himself - was still there. Frankly said, he still wasn't sure how to work with him, act and deal around him. The dynamics between them had never been great to start with and now, after SecDef and SecNav had practically forced Vance to promote him, he doubted working with him was going to be easy. But the higher ups expected them to work together, become partners and together lead NCIS.

Vance pushed his hands into his pockets. "SecNav wants to see us day after tomorrow for lunch. Actually, he wanted it to be tomorrow, but I convinced him that as it was your first day with your new team, it'd be for the best to let you work on building it."

"Thank you." He _was_ thankful. Their first day, if work allowed it, he really wanted the whole team to go eat together. Unfortunately, he had a hard time believing that Vance had deferred SecNav out of the goodness of his heart.

As it was, Vance shrugged. "I figured you'll need all the opportunity you can get. As the task force leader against Balance you won't have much time to work on building your team. And let's not forget that as my new Assistant Director, you will have even less time for your team."

Slowly, Tony leaned back, meeting Vance's eyes. "Which is why I said no way when you and SecNav told me that in order to get my team, I'd have to accept the AD position. I never wanted that." He didn't. It would maybe be good for his career, but moving up the ladder had never been his main goal in life. He admitted it had its perks but all the politics it involved and boring meetings he'd have to attend made him sick. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork and uncomfortable decisions the job description entailed. Most of all though, it forced him to have to work closely with Vance who may or may not think he was out to get his job. No thank you! The worst of it though was that it made him Gibbs' boss. Kind of. And only an insane person would want to be the one to tell Gibbs what to do - or not to do.

But Gibbs had shrugged it off as if it was nothing, telling him if he didn't accept it, he'd be a foolish coward and he didn't eat steaks and drink beer with cowards. So what choice did he have? He accepted the condition.

And was pretty sure Vance was very disappointed that he hadn't turned out to be a foolish coward.

"Craig didn't cut it," Vance replied emotionlessly. "He's welcome to travel around the world, visit all our offices personally and serve as ambassador for NCIS, keeping our agents abroad happy and tightening our relations with other foreign agencies and governments. But as the events with Balance have shown very clearly, we need someone right here on the Yard who can step in if necessary and take over operations." He held Tony's gaze, though still not giving him any sign of what he thought about finding himself with Tony as his second. "Which you did, despite it not being your place or duty and more than that, you excelled at it."

"I don't want your job," Tony said quietly, wanting it to be clear. Maybe it helped them figure out a way to make this work.

To his surprise, Vance smiled. "I know. If you did, I'd have fought SecNav tooth and nail to prevent this from happening."

Tony frowned. "Then why ..."

"I'm not threatened by you, DiNozzo," Vance interrupted him, giving him a long look. "Surprised maybe, and having some concerns, which is hardly surprising given your act so far. But you're a good agent, I realized that already a while ago and as the past weeks showed, you are also an astoundingly good politician. And a leader; that much is clear now as well."

Tony's frown deepened. "Am I supposed to apologize now? I wanted nothing of all this!"

In a flash, Vance had his hands on his desk and was leaning over it, glaring harshly at him. "Exactly! And that's what concerns me. To do this job, you need to _want_ it and that's why I'm not sure I can trust you."

What? Just because he was no career blind jerk he was untrustworthy? What kind of logic was that?

"He wants it."

Startled, they both turned back around. Gibbs was leaning over the bullpen wall behind him, his posture at ease, his eyes though glaring at Vance. "Ease up and give him time to get used to it, Leon," he warned the director coolly, before his eyes locked on Tony. "You're late, DiNozzo. Time to go."

Tony made a face, choosing to ignore what the hell Gibbs and Vance were talking about and kept his ass where it was. "Actually, I ..."

"Are going. Move it, before I move it for you," Gibbs told him, staring him down.

Back to frowning, Tony narrowed his own eyes. "You ..."

An all too familiar firm slap to the back of his head stopped him right there. "Am still your boss, at least until midnight. And I say. You. Are. Going. Now!"

Desperately, he looked to Vance for help. Ha? Fat chance there. Sure enough, Vance held up his hands. "All yours, Gibbs. Just bring him back at Midnight." With a smirk in his direction, he left.

So much for teamwork. Turning back, he saw Gibbs smirking as well. "Come on, Cinderella. Your coach awaits you."

Any other time, he would have enjoyed the joke. Movie reference even and that coming from Gibbs. But he wasn't in the mood. He did get up though. "I don't see why I need to go. This is just a waste of time and I have still a ton of stuff to do before tomorrow."

Waiting patiently until Tony had gathered his badge and gear, Gibbs came around. "No, you don't. You've read the personnel files forwards, backwards and then over and over again. You've selected the cold cases you want to work should no active case come in. You've rehearsed your kick-off speech a hundred times over. You've gone over your training schedule so many times even I know it by heart by now. You've done all the preparation you practically could. Now stop, relax and enjoy your last evening unburdened by the responsibility this job brings. And go get your award."

Taking his tuxedo jacket, he slipped it on, straightening it, before he took something black out of his pocket with another grimace. He was no big fan of bow ties, but apparently, dress code at the White House mandated it. You either showed up in your gala uniform, which he didn't have anymore, since leaving the force, and boy, did he regret that at this moment, or you wore a tuxedo. With a bow tie. Ugh.

Stepping up, Gibbs swatted his fumbling hands away, took the bow out of his hands and started to work. Letting his arms fall, Tony stood still. "Why do I have to go? You never go to your ceremonies."

Gibbs briefly looked up from tying his bow. "I don't get them awarded in the White House. By the President of the United States. And I didn't save millions of people to get it in the first place."

Looking down, Tony clenched his fingers. "I don't think Agent Matthews and Agent Perth would agree. Or Agent Blye. Or Director Trummer. Or the other five cops that died under my watch."

Pulling at the bow ends in order to straighten them, Gibbs' eyes flickered up to him. "You did what you had to do. What you could do."

His eyes still downcast, he shook his head. "Doesn't feel like it. And it feels even more wrong to go get an award when I failed to save them. Worse, I get it _for_ sending them straight into their deaths."

Finished with the bow, that now sat perfectly, instead of stepping back, Gibbs moved his right hand up to put it on the back of his neck. "It's a war. People die in a war. You can't save everyone, Tony, you know that. And sometimes, you give an order and people die. Not because it's your fault but because that's how war is. Take what you can, DiNozzo. You did good. Very good. You _do_ deserve this medal. But if you can't accept it for your deeds, then at least go and accept it in the name of those who can't. Because it's been their fight too and they deserve to be remembered and honored."

It still felt wrong to Tony, but Gibbs' words undeniably made sense too. Slowly lifting his eyes, he looked into those of his boss and nodded slowly. Then he shifted slightly. "Gibbs - Thanks. For being here. For going to this insane thing with me."

With one of the corners of his mouth lifting, Gibbs patted, almost stroked the back of his head and stepped back. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

It was said matter-of-factly, as if it wasn't worth mentioning. To him it probably wasn't. But to Tony it meant everything. He was there, unlike someone else. His father hadn't shown up, which was nothing new. Though he was kind of surprised, having thought - and worried – that the chance to get into the White House and meet the President might make him come for once after all. But no, he had politely declined, claiming he had something else to attend. It was probably for the best. Most likely he wouldn't have passed the security check anyway. Still. It stung. But not as much as it used to be and that was all thanks to the man in front of him, who had been there for the past twelve years, always. Well, with one exception but he didn't hold that one against him. Losing your memory, as he knew well now, was a scary thing and he had lost only some hours, not entire years.

"I know. And as I said, thank you," Tony couldn't help but emphasize. But before it got too cheesy, he straightened, nervously stroking over the smooth silk front of his jacket. Readying himself. The people in the West Wing thought it a good symbolic sign if instead of a small, short ceremony in the Oval Office they made a big gala thing out of it. Everyone of the task force would be there, his team too. And Gibbs, who'd stand beside him in the place reserved for family when they were going to give him the stupid medal. In front of a few dozens TV cameras from around the world. It wasn't his thing, but he had little choice in the matter. He'd make the best of it, drawing strength from his people being there for him. And use it as another slap in the face for Balance. Slowly, he forced himself to relax. Met Gibbs' eyes. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

><p>"This is a disaster."<p>

Twirling his knife in his hand, Tom didn't pause or answer, his eyes following the ceremony being broadcast live around the world. Or rather, following every movement of the guest of honor. He had recovered well from their fight, it seemed. Nothing like when he'd given that press conference right afterwards.

"You should have killed him when you had the chance."

Eyes still fixed on DiNozzo, Tom shrugged. He'd heard that criticism a lot in the past two months. He gave the answer he always gave. "I left him unconscious on a ticking bomb, after I beat the hell out of him and cracked his skull. He shouldn't still be alive."

"You should have shot him. Or broke his neck."

Maybe. Probably. But DiNozzo had surprised him and Tom wasn't easily surprised. Not just by apparently not dying when he was supposed to - but by the way this apparent nobody crossed every one of their plans in the US and some in the other target countries as well. Most of all though he hadn't expected him to come so close to catching _him_. Killing him even, with the very knife he held in his hand. Thanks to his CIPA syndrome he hadn't felt it, nor the bullet in his leg. Not until he passed out from blood loss, thankfully after he'd gotten away and to safety. But it had been close, closer than ever before in his life.

Other people usually felt threatened by such a close call. Not him. He'd been exhilarated by it. After a life spent not feeling any pain, he'd finally had at least a taste of death. Thanks to DiNozzo. Yeah, he could have killed him when he'd laid unconscious in front of him. He should have, Raina and the others were right about that. But after that fight, and not just the one he'd just barely won, DiNozzo deserved better than that.

"We'll get him." It was a promise, one he meant with every fiber of his unfeeling body. DiNozzo was going to die, in a fair, honorable way, just like he'd want to. And if he could help it - and he could - he was going to die by _his _hand.

"We better. The others expect us to clean up this mess. And they want us to move up phase two."

Good. They needed to show the US government that this war wasn't over by a long shot. That their arrogance had a price that was long overdue for them to pay. And on the personal side, he couldn't wait to mess himself with DiNozzo again. This time, he was going to be prepared. The last weeks he'd been recuperating from the almost mortal wounds DiNozzo had inflicted on him he'd spent collecting and studying evreything he could find on his enemy.

His eyes fell back onto the knife he was playing with, stroking over the sharp edge. Blood welled up on his finger and staring at it fascinated for a moment, he finally lifted the finger to his mouth to suck at it, his gaze still stroking almost lovingly over the shiny blade. DiNozzo had loved this knife, he could tell by the smoothness of the handle and sharpness of the blade. Not to mention the inscription on it, implying that it probably had been a gift. Most likely from someone that meant a lot to DiNozzo. His bet was on the man's boss. DiNozzo had seemed quite upset about his shooting. Now he saw the same man standing beside him like a proud father as the President pinned the Medal of Valor on his chest.

_Rule 9 - Semper Fi_

Oh yeah, this knife for sure had been a gift from the boss, the former marine as his file had told him. A father figure apparently. Having read a bit on DiNozzo's past and his real father that didn't surprise Tom much. He could relate to that, his own childhood had lacked considerably as well.

His finger stroked over the inscription, a cruel smile twitching up the corners of his mouth as he envisioned the way he was going to give DiNozzo his knife back. He could almost feel the warm blood spilling over his hands already. It was going to be the perfect way for DiNozzo to pay for crossing their plans and killing so many of them, some of them his friends since forever. Oh yeah, killing him with this very knife was going to be a pleasure to him but also, kind of a poetic justice.

* * *

><p>Tony stared at the blue and gold star, stroking over the cool metal. He didn't know what to do with this damn thing. He'd thought about closing it away in his drawer with the rest of his and Gibbs' awards. But that didn't feel right. Gibbs was right. This medal may have been given to him but it really honored all the people who had fought so hard to keep Balance from winning, saving millions of people. Giving their lives to keep this country safe. They deserved better than to be discarded into a dark, forgotten drawer.<p>

He wasn't the type to display things like this either though so he really was stumped about what to do with it.

After shaking what felt like a hundred hands and having even more small talk, he'd fled the gala as soon as possible, with Gibbs driving the escape vehicle, probably even gladder than him to get away from the stiff formalities. He had offered him the opportunity to crash at his house but he had declined, wanting to be alone to deal with the many questions this evening had raised. And to prepare for the next day, getting his act together.

Or so he'd thought. But he hadn't been home for longer than ten minutes before he'd grabbed his car keys and stormed out. For a long while he'd just driven around, letting the cool wind calm his whirling thoughts. When he'd finally pulled to the curb, it hadn't been in front of his apartment building.

He hadn't consciously driven here, but it didn't surprise him much to have ended up here after all. Truth was, part of him always knew he'd end up here, ever since having seen her in that skintight white dress. Or rather since she'd dropped the bomb and told him that his life was hers.

Until now he'd avoided her and her words, burying himself in work. It hadn't been an excuse, exactly, but it had been convenient. The first three weeks had been filled with briefings, debriefings, interrogations of the still alive Balance members and a lot of other meetings. In the small amount of time he'd had left he had to lead NCIS until Vance came back from his medical leave. The next few weeks he'd spent on the road. Balance was a global threat and he was convinced that in order to destroy them, his task force had to work globally as well. Meaning, to work closely with other counter intelligence agencies and police forces. So he went on a crash tour around the world, hitting Africa, Asia, South America and as a last stop, Europe. First to Brussels to speak to the EU parliament and Europol, then London where he talked with Scotland Yard and MI6. It had been an exhausting but very successful tour. He came back with promises to join forces and share information in the fight against Balance.

Before he flew back from London, though, he took a few days off to go see some of his relatives from his mother's side. He hadn't known why, it wasn't as if he'd been close to any of them. But somehow he had felt the need to reconnect with his mother and meeting her relatives had seemed like a good way to achieve it. He wasn't sure if he managed to do that but it had helped him calm down a bit and take a step back to think about what he'd constantly pushed away ever since _she _had turned his world upside down.

The simple truth was that he didn't trust her, not with his heart. With his life in a heartbeat but she'd hurt him enough that he couldn't trust her with his heart as well. Problem was, he couldn't live with not giving it a shot anyway, because if he didn't, he'd always ask himself what could have been. And trust could be learned. Earned. So yeah, he was going to give her another chance after all. And himself.

But he'd still avoided her after coming back, or at least being alone with her. The two weeks had been filled with the preparations for his new team going on rotation and his finishing what he could before leaving the old one. Also, he'd given Ziva and McGee a crash course in being SFA on a MCRT team.

Now, it was past midnight though. He was no longer part of Gibbs' team. Therefore, he was no longer Ziva's partner anymore. Time to face his possible future.

As if the universe agreed, the sound of a key turning in the lock had him closing the velvet medal case and laying it on the table beside him.

She had to be tired - or drunk - because it took her twenty-two seconds to register someone being in the room, going for her weapon. Before she could shoot him, he turned on the table light beside him. For a long moment, she stared at him before she slowly let her hands fall. "Tony. What are you doing here?"

She sounded unsure, so unusual for her. Then again, she'd done a lot of things lately that weren't typical of her. Which gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, this might actually work.

He met her eyes, full of uncertainty, fear - and hope too. He nodded. "You and I - we still have to talk."

The End - For sure this time.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Yes, I'm serious. I'm ending it here. No joke, no second epilogue. It had always been clear to me that I wouldn't go further than this point with TIVA in this story, if at all. And to be honest, this is the end I've always envisioned and it still feels right. I hope you enjoyed the ride and have found some more answers. Yes, I know, there are still some things open. Intentionally. I think some things need to stay open, as long as the major threads have a closure and I believe that is so with this story. <em>

_Now, a lot of you guys asked me about a sequel. After having read the epilogue, you probably realized that it's very promising for just that. Hell, it's practically a sneak-peak to what may come in a sequel. Truth is, I'd love to write a sequel. This universe is so much fun and exploring it a bit further, especially how it works with the two teams and their leaders working hand in hand together, is very tempting. Also, as said, there are some threads left open that I really want to continue and adress again. So why am I telling you all this instead of just saying, hey, don't worry, keep looking, in the near future you'll get a story alert for the sequel? Because as much as I'd love to do that - one thing is still missing and I'm afraid, it's the most important one. Yes, I know what need to be in that sequel, but unfortunately, I don't have a plot yet that will lead us to all these thing that I want to tell. And I've been thinking a lot on that. So I won't make any promises at this point - but know that last night I had an idea that just might work, but I really can't say it yet and it is also a lot vague still. But it's hope and after this ending, you deserve at least as much._

_Which leads me to once again thank you all for the mind blowing and wonderful reviews you left me time and time again, getting more fantastic with each chapter. Be assured that your reviews helped in getting this story to the point it had gotten because they made me try even a little bit harder to do it - and your expectations - justice._ _I'll try to answer as much reviews as I can to personally thank you, but just so everyone of you knows it,me specially those who leave one without logging in, I love and appreciate every single word!_

_Last but not least, again a heartfelt thank you and bow to the wonderful scousemuz1k, who made it possible that you all can read through this smoothly and saved you from some phrases that are more German than English really and gave me hints when I got something wrong or at least not quite right. Thank you! _

_Again a long note, I know, but damn, after a year, 253 (!) pages and almost 120'000 words I deserved that. Thank you all for being on this story's journey and I hope you had as much fun reading this baby as I had writing it. I haven't told all my NCIS stories yet, actually, right now it feels as if I only just started. A short story is already in the pipeline, I have a few other longer stories I've been working on who were put on ice though in favor for finishing SI and as said, one of these days, there might even be a sequel to this baby. So while this is finished, I hope I'll meet at least some of you in another story again. _

_Merci and auf Wiedersehen!_


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